April Fool's
by pisces317
Summary: What happens when House plays an April Fool's joke on Wilson? How will he make things up to his friend? Includes possible Chase/Wilson. Slash included. Hurt/comfort and friendship/relationship centered. Please Review and let me know what you think!
1. Chapter 1

Title: **April Fool's**  
>Author: <strong>mmorgan317 (LJ) or pisces317 (FF)<strong>  
>Rating: <strong>PG-13<strong>  
>Summary: <strong>What happens when House plays an April Fool's joke on Wilson and it goes wrong?<strong>  
>Spoilers: <strong>None. AU with slash.<strong>  
>Disclaimer: <strong>Not mine, just borrowing them.<strong>  
>Author's Notes:<strong> Got this idea from the question on LJ about April Fool's jokes that had gone awry<strong>

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><p>"Ow!"<p>

"Hm, that felt squishy." House replied before he tentatively jumped on the floor, "Nope, that's not squishy. Do you think there was a sponge on the floor?"

"House that was my foot!" Wilson groaned as hesitantly placed weight on his foot. Hissing in pain, he retracted the leg quickly.

"What's with you?" House accused questioningly. Normally when he'd do something like this, they'd be able to joke about it even if Wilson was grumpy and/or hurt. He was annoyed that things weren't going according to plan.

"I told you this morning that I'd hurt my foot while jogging," Wilson scolded annoyed, "how did you think it was a good idea to put all your weight onto your cane while placing it on my already injured foot?"

"I wasn't listening this morning; tuned you out at the first whine." House answered, grabbing a fry from Wilson's plate.

"How could you not have been listening, you asked me what was wrong?"

"Come on, you've known me how long and you still can't tell when I'm just being polite?"

Wilson stared slack-jawed at his friend. It had never occurred to him that House hadn't actually cared. He cocked his head minutely to the right – then again, House's eyes had held more boredom than concern. Why is it he always finds himself in relationships with people that he cares about but that don't give a crap about him?

"Fine." He said with a hand showing he surrendered. Wilson didn't speak to House for the rest of lunch, which was fine with the diagnostician. They ate in comfortable yet angry silence with each knowing that Wilson would forgive House before the meal ended.

Sure enough, as soon as they began limping out the doors of the cafeteria, Wilson caved.

"You coming over tonight?" House asked casually while they headed in the direction of the diagnostics offices.

"You paying?" Wilson countered.

House laughed mockingly, "Yeah, sure."

"With your own money." Wilson added knowing exactly what his friend was referring to.

"Oh, then no. But I can provide good porn and wonderful company." The older man bargained, blinking his eyes innocently at Wilson.

"Fine, yeah I'll come. You provide the beer and call in the food." Wilson countered before he veered in the direction of his office.

"Where are you going?" House asked confused.

"I need caffeine and since my coffee cup is in here, I thought I'd grab it before I tried pouring the coffee." Wilson reasoned sarcastically.

House just rolled his eyes and headed for his office. Before he'd left, the elevator dinged open allowing a bald-headed resident to exit then head straight for Wilson's office. House inwardly snickered. Wilson wouldn't be getting a cup of coffee anytime soon which was good since it would give him enough time to plan his next move.

Wilson collapsed into his desk chair, scrubbing his hands over his head. He'd just escorted his last patient, Mr. Tyler, out of his office and felt exhausted.

Last night had been spent tossing and turning so when his alarm had squawked that it was time to get up, Wilson had been tempted to throw it against the wall and take pleasure in seeing the machine smash into pieces.

Alas, he didn't do it. Instead, he dragged his overly exhausted body out of the warm, comfortable bed and got ready for his morning jog. Over the last couple of years his health had begun to decline so when he'd had a heart attack last year, freaking everyone including himself out, he'd begun to get healthier including changing his diet, though he did have the occasional fry, and exercise.

He soon found that he enjoyed the early morning jogs. They helped energize him for the day, clear his mind of any problems he might be having and feel a little more confident in bed.

Due to lack of sleep he hadn't been watching where he was going this morning and had stepped half on, half off the curb, twisting his foot and spraining his ankle. Since he knew House wasn't about to get out of bed, only to have to drive a couple of miles, Wilson began his slow limp back home more than grateful that he'd been on his way back when the accident had happened.

House had been, amazingly enough, awake by the time he'd gotten home, noticed the limp with what seemed to Wilson to be disgust then asked what happened. The oncologist had waved off the accident, managing to avoid the embarrassing taunts from his friend for the reason, then downplayed his injuries. House didn't seem to really care that much anyways.

Thankfully half of Wilson's job is sitting so it had been easy to keep any inquiries to a bare minimum, most of them happening only when he hadn't already been sitting at his desk which, given the amount of paperwork that was stacked on top of it, hadn't been all that often.

As his eyelids began to droop, Wilson shook himself hoping to wake his body up. He stood up, grimacing when pain shot through his foot and ankle, then grabbed his coffee cup and headed next door to fill it.

He walked in to find House pushing a chair towards a bookcase. "What are you doing?"

"I need a book so I thought I'd grab it." House answered, sliding the chair up against the case.

"Yes because you're equipped to stand on a chair and reach for a book," Wilson scoffed, "let me do it." He nudged his friend out of the way then stood on the chair and grabbed the one and only book that had been askew. "Why did you put a book up here anyways?"

Little did he know that House had heard him coming so, he'd fixed the chair so that it was weak on the right side. As the oncologist fell, his right leg slipped out from under him, landing hard on the carpeted floor with a sickening crunch.

Wilson cried out in pain as the bones in his ankle broke. With tear covered eyes he looked up at House as the pieces of the puzzle fit in place, "You did that on purpose?" He demanded, panting in heavily in pain.

House painfully knelt down next to his friend, "Oh quite being a baby and let me see." Automatically he could tell that the shoe and sock had to come off, so with one quick yank, he pulled. His heart shattered into pieces at Wilson's pained cry but he kept the stoic mask of indifference on. There'd be time for emotions after they got Wilson taken care of.

Gently he palpitated the ankle, wincing when he felt the bones grind under his touch. He'd guessed that the ankle had been broke from the eggplant bruising and size alone but he wouldn't be a doctor if he hadn't checked.

Wilson whined and groaned under House's touch while tears fell down his face. The chainsaw of pain threatened to cut through his reserve but he tried to keep it together. Briefly he wondered of something else was wrong; he'd broken his ankle before and it had never hurt this bad. Maybe he was just getting old and his tolerance for pain was beginning to diminish.

House pulled out his cell phone and sent Chase a text telling him to grab some pain meds, a couple ice packs and a wheelchair then slammed it shut and focused his attention on his patient and friend. An unfamiliar and uncomfortable feeling akin to guilt stabbed the broken pieces of his heart, stringing them up for display.

Mentally he berated himself. He should have known better than to pull of this prank. Had Wilson not already been injured, things may have been fine but he'd told House, twice in fact, that he'd hurt his foot and, judging by just how much bruising and swelling there was, he'd also injured his ankle.

It was just supposed to be a harmless April Fool's joke, no one was supposed to get hurt; least of all Wilson.

Though he'd rather die than show it, he cared about and loved the oncologist with all that his Grinch Heart could give. He knew that at times it wasn't enough for Wilson but no matter what, he stayed with House.

It had been over a year since they'd begun their relationship and while it was never a smooth ride, there were more good times than bad. House guessed that it had something to do with the fact they still kept their own apartments but Wilson speculated that it was just because them in a relationship and them being friends wasn't all that different.

A puzzled but concerned Chase entered the conference room doors, blue eyes scanning anxiously for his boss thoroughly expecting him to be on the floor in agony. He was taken aback when he found House kneeling next to Wilson, who seemed to be the one in agony.

Without comment, Chase handed his boss the ice packs which House promptly wrapped around his friend's ankle, securing it with the ACE bandage he'd taken off the ankle earlier to examine it.

"What happened?" Chase asked, the concern he felt coming through loud and clear along with his Australian accent.

"He fell." House summarized, pushing Wilson's right shirt sleeve up before plunging the contents of pain medication from a syringe into his veins.

Chase stepped around them to inspect the chair that had obviously caused the fall. His eyes slit when he'd noticed that two tiny, new screws were loose in one of the legs. "Did you trick him?"

House met Chase's eyes with a smirk, "After all these years, I love how I can still shock you."

"He's your best friend," Chase began while pointing at a barely conscious Wilson, "and you tricked him, knowing he was already injured?" His question was disbelieving but his tone was disgust.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a bad friend. Can you save the lecture for after we get Wilson into the wheelchair?" House snapped.

Together, they managed to get a groggy and pained Wilson into the chair. The oncologist managed to help by keeping weight off his injured foot then balancing on his own while Chase brought the wheelchair over and House cleaned up the mess he'd made.

Wilson hadn't been very coherent due to pain then pain meds but he'd managed to hear Chase lecture House about his actions. The memory made him smile. Sure, he and Chase weren't close friends but knowing that someone else seemed to give a damn helped cheer him up despite the pain.

The trip to Radiology hadn't been fun. Not only did people keep staring at Wilson, openly none the less, but every bump jarred his injured ankle, sending short bursts of pain through his leg. The ice had helped dull things considerably but it was starting to melt and therefore the numbing effects were wearing off.

Surprisingly, House stayed quiet throughout the whole trip to, during and from radiology. Wilson began to worry that something was truly wrong, House was never silent for this long. Chase was known for his ability to keep silent, particularly when it came to anything to do with House and Wilson outside of work. It was one of House's favorite qualities about the Intensivist.

Settled back in his own office on the couch with his right leg elevated on top of two pillows, a splint on his ankle and two ice packs surrounding it, Wilson picked up his first batch of paperwork to review. Unfortunately, he had assumed right. The ankle had been badly broken; one of the broken bones had been grating on his nerve which caused half of the pain. The other half was caused by a ruptured Achilles tendon which had been the result of his previous sprain being aggravated further.

He had an appointment for a week from now in which he'd have to baby the ankle extremely by keeping it constantly elevated so that the extreme swelling would go down. If it went down enough, the podiatrist would schedule surgery to repair the damage done then when the incision was fully healed, they'd cast the ankle.

A knock on his door brought Wilson out of his thoughts. Chase entered, albeit hesitantly. "How are you doing?"

Wilson smiled. Though Chase tries to hide it, he cares just as much as Cameron does, he just knows when to express it. "I'm okay." Wilson told him sincerely.

Chase raised a questioning eyebrow, "Really?"

"Yeah," Wilson chuckled. He didn't blame the man for not believing him. With all his years as House's best friend, he'd learned how to lie pretty well, especially when it came to his own health. "My ankle hurts but it's more a heated throbbing than the white-hot pokers it was earlier."

"Do you need anything?" Chased asked after nodding his head. Inwardly, he was a little worried about the heated throbbing but medically, he knew there was nothing to be concerned about. He wrote it off as him being concerned for a respected colleague and friend. Mentally, he shrugged; Wilson probably didn't consider him a friend but that didn't mean that he didn't consider the oncologist one.

"Nah, thanks Chase." Wilson answered with a sigh. The papers he'd been trying to read for the last thirty minutes fell out of his hands then slipped onto the floor with the grace of a feather floating on the air and landing in water. He closed his eyes, leaned his head back then brought his left hand up to his forehead to knead his temples where a headache had been building.

Chase stepped further into the office and picked up the papers. Handing them to Wilson, he frowned when he noticed the slight grimace of pain on the older man's face and the way said man massaged his head. "I'll get you some Tylenol for the headache."

Before Wilson could argue that he didn't need it, Chase was gone, shutting the door softly behind him. Awkwardly, he shuffled down further on the couch so he could lean his head on the pillow which lay supported by the arm. He let out a groan when the balcony door opened, the April breeze caressing his face and the smells of flowers filling his nostrils.

"Sleeping on the job?" House exclaims with a loud, fake gasp. "Won't your immunocompromised kiddies die if you take a break?"

"You should have thought about that before you decided to try an break my ankle." Wilson grumbled.

"I don't care if they die. In fact, it'd probably be better for all if they went ahead with it-"

"House!" Wilson's sharp scold had the desired effect of stopping his friend from continuing his diatribe. Unfortunately it also made his headache kick up a notch, slowing making its way to a migraine. With a groan, he brought his hand back up to his head and began to massage again.

"Headache?" House asked, wincing by how stupid that question had been since it was obvious his friend's head hurt.

"Yeah." The oncologist answered simply too tired to play verbal tennis with House.

"Chase going to get you something?"

Wilson opened his eyes and turned his head to look at House. "How did you know he was here?"

"Jimmy, you should know by now that I stalk you intensely. Besides, after the mini-lecture he gave earlier I guessed that he'd be in here to check on you shortly after we got you settled." House explained absently. "Actually, he lasted longer than I thought he would."

"Jealous?" Wilson joked.

House's eyes flashed briefly in anger, "No. The sap can't help but care about people."

"Well I would apologize for giving a crap but I'm not sure you know what the emotion feels like." Chase's voice interrupted. While he leaned against the door pouring out relaxation, the tone in his voice indicated that he was still mad at House for his earlier stunt.

"Be careful Wombat, I can still fire you." House warned not happy about the amount of attention he seemed to give his lover. He didn't care if Chase challenged him openly or privately but his determination to weasel himself into House's place in Wilson's life irked him more than he wanted to admit.

Chase ignored the threat and walked in to Wilson's office, handing him a couple of Tylenol and a bottle of water. "Here, they should help with the headache."

"I think he already knows that. He does have and MD after his name and everything." House snarked.

Wilson smiled despite the hostility in the room. He thought it was annoyingly sweet the way House seemed to be marking his territory without actually saying anything. "Thanks Chase."

"Yeah, thanks Chase. Now get out." House added.

Chase glared at House but remained where he was. "Let me know if you need anything." He offered, earning a grateful smile from Wilson, then left.

"You should be nicer to Chase." Wilson lectured, loving brown eyes boring into jealous blue. "He'll be the one saving you from having to listen to my whining."

House winced at the amount of bitterness that had seeped into Wilson's latter sentence. Some part of his brain registered that his words earlier and his refusal to acknowledge that the oncologist had been injured had hurt his friend but the rest ignored the jab. "Well, in that case I should give him a raise and send him to be your personal secretary for the next eight weeks."

"House, I'll be fine after two." Wilson reminded, not commenting on the idea otherwise.

"That doesn't mean that you won't be whining about something. God knows I don't want to deal with it." House countered.

Wilson tried to hide the pain that sentence caused him but it hadn't worked very well judging by the way his friend's eyes softened then looked away. "Don't you have a patient?"

House felt his heart plummet into his stomach. Twenty years of friendship allowed him to easily translate that as a dismissal under the guise of concerned curiosity. "Nope, solved it. It actually was Lupus." He said relaying his amazement. "But you're right, I should get back. Wouldn't want Chase spreading nasty rumors. I'll be back to take you home."

Wilson gave a nod then leaned his head back against the pillow, shutting his eyes against the light and pain in the other man's eyes. He knew he'd hurt House but right now, he didn't really care. Some selfish part of him felt that House deserved to be hurt given all that he'd put Wilson through today.

Silently House got up and left, casting a sad glance at the back of Wilson's head before exiting to his own office.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

House sat in his office watching Wilson's empty chair through the balcony door with concerned concentration filled with longing. He wished he could tell Wilson just how sorry he was for hurting him and how much he loved him but something held the diagnostician back.

He looked up in time to see Chase walking out of the conference room and followed, limping out of his office with a, "Where are you going?"

"Wilson asked me to take him home." Chase answered with a hand gesture towards Wilson's office.

House swallowed a fresh retort in addition to his pride and offered a nod of acquiescence before spinning sharply on his heel and re-entering his office.

Chase shrugged. He could tell House wasn't happy that he'd been called to take Wilson home but honestly, he didn't care. He walked in to Wilson's office, sat down in one of the spare chairs then administered a dose of pain medication into Wilson's vein.

The oncologist had called him obviously in a lot of pain and had asked that Chase bring some meds. Chase hadn't needed to ask how bad the pain was to know that it was bad. Wilson never asked for help from someone other than House unless it was a last resort.

The intensivist carefully packed up Wilson's things while he waited until the older doctor's body relaxed. When he heard an exhaled sigh, Chase turned to find Wilson looking like he was about to fall asleep so he decided it was in all of their interests to get the injured man up.

"You okay?" He asked trying to gauge what all would be needed.

"Yeah, thanks Chase." Wilson answered sleepily, "I guess we should get going before I fall asleep here."

"Is that really such a bad thing?"

Wilson smiled appreciatively fully understanding Chase's meaning with ease. "Did House run into you?" Chase blushed earning a sigh from Wilson. "Well, as much as I'd love to wait around for a lecture then to be ushered out of here without an ounce of caring only to be completely ignored once I got home, my back would never forgive me for sleeping on this couch when I have a perfectly good bed waiting for me at home."

"Fair enough." Chase replied with a smile. "You ready?"

"I think so. Hand me my crutches?" Wilson asked while he gently lowered his elevated leg onto the floor. The pain that had died away thanks to medication ratcheted up a bit from a dull throb to a sharp, stabbing throb. He winced with the pain but was glad that it wasn't worse.

Chase stood by Wilson's side, crutches in hand, patiently waiting for Wilson to ready himself for standing up.

The oncologist grabbed the crutches then, using them to leverage himself off the couch, managed to stand with his stronger, uninjured leg underneath him, holding him up while the injured one didn't touch the ground.

They made their way out to Chase's car, smiling slightly when they earned overly curious looks from just about everyone. The only one who wasn't curious was Cuddy who had authorized the little trip.

Chase felt a little uncomfortable about going to Wilson's apartment but was thankful that at least it wasn't House's. The oncologist kept a neat home with everything in its proper place, dusted clean and spotless.

Not for the first time Chase wondered how Wilson managed to stay with House who was very messy and normally unwilling to clean up after himself. He'd heard rumors that when they stayed at House's, Wilson did all the cooking, cleaning and laundry which didn't surprise Chase at all. House was the king of stubbornness and could wait Wilson out.

He waited for Wilson to enter the apartment before he closed the door and locked it behind them. Wilson started heading towards the couch, "Uh-uh, bed."

Wilson chuckled lightly, "Sometimes you sound just like House."

"I'm insulted." Chase retorted putting on a hurt expression.

"You shouldn't be. House can be caring; he just doesn't like to show it." Wilson answered softly while he slowly made his way into his bedroom. He propped the crutches on the wall beside his bedside table then unsteadily hopped over to his bed.

"You could have just asked for help getting to the bed. I don't need House chewing me out because I let you injure yourself further." Chase lectured lightly. He waited until Wilson sat down on his bed before he grabbed a couple extra pillows from an armchair which sat inconspicuously in a corner of the room.

Lifting the injured man's leg, Chase placed the two pillows underneath the broken ankle, trying to hide the wince that came into his eyes when Wilson sucked his breath in with the movement.

Once finished he pulled his hands away like he'd been burned. It surprised him to feel such exciting electricity shoot through his fingers and travel through every nerve ending in his body when he'd touched Wilson.

Though he'd never actually thought about it, Chase could admit, to himself at least, that he was interested in Wilson and had the oncologist not been already involved with House, he would be sorely tempted to try to date the man himself.

On the other hand, maybe Wilson could use a new friend and/or boyfriend and maybe House could learn just how much Wilson meant to him. The last thing he wanted was to be "the other guy", especially when it meant coming in between House and Wilson but a small part of him nudged him in that direction none the less.

Chase ran a diagnostic yet appreciative eye over Wilson's body. He winced when he saw the badly swollen ankle and left to grab something that could be used as an ice pack, deciding that the rest of his scan could wait until after he'd taken care of this.

When he came back, Wilson was half supported by a mound of pillows and half supported by the bed. His hair looked mussed, his eyes semi-groggy with sleep and his t-shirt scrunched under him revealing a beautifully defined chest and stomach. For a moment it took Chase's breath away.

Is this what House gets to see everyday? Jealousy swelled through his heart making it pump faster. Blue eyes continued their scan while his brain ran through scenarios where it was him instead of House with Wilson. When they focused on deep, pained brown eyes, Chase refocused his attention on what he'd been doing before he'd gotten wonderfully distracted by Wilson's lovely body.

"Here," he said while lightly placing a bag of frozen vegetables around the swollen ankle.

Wilson waited a moment to let the cold do its job before answering with a "Thanks." He'd noticed the way Chase had stared at him with admiration, longing then jealousy. He knew the jealousy wasn't directed at him so that emotion hadn't bothered him and though he'd never want to admit it, not to House anyways, he liked the idea of someone else checking him out and liking what they saw.

Chase nodded, "Let me know if you need anything else."

"I will, thanks again."

_What the hell? _Chase thought resignedly. "If it's alright with you, I thought I'd drop by after work to check on you." He paused for a minute to gauge the other man's reaction and when he saw shock on the beautiful face he quickly added, "I'm not sure House will be able to get away anytime soon."

"That'd be great actually," Wilson replied wanting to put his friend's conscience at ease while at the same time assuring the intensivist that he truly wouldn't mind it if he came back.

Chase gave a wide smile which he quickly hid by lowering his head and staring at his shoes. "Well, get some rest. I'll be back in," he checked his watch, "three hours to check on you."

"Thanks, and Chase," Chase turned around, "if House gives you any grief, tell him to talk to me."

Chase nodded once again then left, making sure the door locked behind him.

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><p>Chase returned to the office to find House stalking around it angrily like a pit bull stalking a cage, waiting to pounce on the first thing that entered which happened to be Chase.<p>

"Ah, my replacement returns. Did you give Wilson everything he needs?" House sneered at him. His tone implied joking but Chase could easily see the angry jealousy that sparked in the cerulean blue eyes.

"Yeah, I did actually." He paused a minute to enjoy the fire that his answer ignited before he continued his response. "I got him settled on his bed with pillows and some ice then left. I told him I'd check on him after work since I wasn't sure if you'd be able to check on him or not. I didn't know if you would."

Cameron and Foreman sat at the table in awe of Chase's audacity and attitude. It was well known throughout the hospital that Chase was the one most likely to be afraid of House and would be the first to back down from an argument with the man.

"Don't worry your pretty little head Wombat. Wilson will be taken care of." House assured with insincere sweetness.

"By whom, you?" Chase challenged.

"Yes by me!" House snarled, raising himself to his full height hoping to intimidate the Australian. He sneered, which was as close to a smile as he could manage, when he noticed Chase do the same.

Though Chase was shorter than House, he managed to make himself look almost as intimidating. He knew that it was only because, whether he admitted it or not, House recognized that Chase could overpower the diagnostician easily and it scared him.

To the surprise of everyone in the room, Chase let out a little laugh. "Wilson told me to let you know that if you have a problem to call him."

That alone was enough to knock the air out of House's lungs. What the heck was going on? Why was Wilson conspiring against him? "Oh my god!" He breathed, "You've already slept with him haven't you?"

"What?" Chase exclaimed taken aback by the question. "No, of course not."

House snorted, "Everybody Lies. Why else would you be so intent on helping Wilson?"

"Because he's a nice guy and deserves more care and affection than you give him." Chase offered.

House's eyes went from jealousy, anger and suspicion to amusement. "Affection?"

_Shit! _Chase thought immediately. He hadn't meant to say that. "Yeah, affection. I've seen how you treat him and it wouldn't surprise me if he has slept with someone else while with you. It'd serve you right." He ranted before taking a breath. _I don't need this. _He thought before he turned on his heel and strode to the door.

"Where are you going?" House called.

"Clinic Duty." Was Chase's reply before walking through the glass door then disappearing down the hall.

Cameron and Foreman turned their amused expressions to House. Foreman had thoroughly enjoyed the match between Chase and House. He didn't care who won as long as it was entertaining.

Cameron on the other hand was conflicted. On one hand, she didn't like how Chase had talked to House. While she hated it, there was a part of her that still cared about the scruffy doctor. On the other hand, she agreed with Chase.

She'd watched with sadness the last few months how little attention House paid his friend and lover. He hadn't noticed nor seemed to care when she'd come to tell him that Wilson had been in an accident involving an outraged patient which landed him with overnight observation for a concussion, four broken ribs and a hairline fracture in his cheek.

Eventually, she settled on Chase's side and by extension, Wilson's.

House turned very angry eyes on them before turning on his heel and vehemently limping into his office, grabbing his keys and exiting said office without so much as a single word to them.

Cameron looked at Foreman who offered a shrug before getting up and heading to do his own clinic hours.

Inwardly Cameron worried for Wilson's safety. That had been that maddest she'd ever seen her boss but she assured herself that he wouldn't hurt Wilson. On the outside, however, she offered a smile at Foreman before heading to the ER to see if they needed any help.

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><p><strong>I have never written a story with the possibility I'm not sure where this story is going) of ChaseWilson. I hope you all like it.**

**I apologize for the confusion on the first chapter. Yes, I am planning on continuing the story. So please keep reading and reviewing!  
><strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

House walked into Wilson's apartment after letting himself easily in courtesy of the key he had copied from Wilson's keychain, slamming the door none-too-gently behind him. Several emotions whirled through him making a parfait filled with anger and pain. The foremost of his emotions was betrayal and hurt. How could Wilson so easily discard him? And for Chase none-the-less!

"House?" An unsure Wilson called out from the bedroom. He hadn't been sleeping thankfully but he was still in bed.

"Who else would storm into your apartment with a limp?" House snarked angrily making his way to the bedroom.

He was greeted to the sight of Wilson hopping unsteadily over to his crutches. The precarious stance created an imbalance of equilibrium causing the oncologist to tip over on to his injured side.

With speed unbeknownst to Wilson, House was by the younger man's side in milliseconds. He grabbed Wilson in his strong arms easily able to balance his friend's weight and his even with his limp. Wrapping one arm around Wilson's waist, House escorted the injured man back to bed saying, "What were you thinking?"

Wilson leaned against his friend stunned with the quickness of speed that House had used to catch him. He hadn't planned on his poor balance so the fall had caught him off guard. If House hadn't been there, he would have fallen and injured himself further. "I was trying to get up and meet you."

"Idiot." House scolded, his voice dripping with a mixture of anger, sarcasm and affection. Wilson and his impeccably good manners. If the man hadn't been raised to meet guests at the door, he would have happily stayed in bed and not chanced hurting himself more.

House never understood manners. What was the point of behaving the way everyone else thought you should when it's more self-serving to behave the way you want to?

Wilson chuckled breathily at House's remark. He found it amazingly annoying that getting from the bed to the two feet where his crutches reside wore him out so much. Of course, he was hopping the entire time but still he'd been exercising more, it shouldn't wear him out this much.

He grimaced deeply, his teeth clenching together and the muscle in his jaw working furiously as deep close to agonizing pain shot through his ankle. Apparently the injured limb hadn't appreciated the movement any more than his dominant leg had. The pain had been slowly building over the last hour, eventually escalating to extremely bad by the time House had come so it didn't surprise him the joint was on strike now.

Despite his anger and resolve to stay angry, House felt his heart soften at the sight of his friend's grimace. No matter how angry he was with Wilson, he didn't like seeing the oncologist in pain. The fact that he caused this pain only made his heart bleed pity more.

Pity – the emotion left a foul taste in his mouth. It was the one emotion that he refused to accept from anyone and he refused to give anyone. It wasn't until the last few months during his relationship with Wilson that he had learned to change the latter; mostly because it was always him causing some random accident that would end up with Wilson injured.

There was the time that Wilson had been putting up a picture in his apartment and House had snuck up behind him, scaring the oncologist causing him to drop the hammer on his bare foot which earned the man a broken toe and a bad bruise on his foot.

Another time, House had been broodingly thinking over his current case, twirling his cane like he usually does. He hadn't heard the balcony door open so he hadn't realized he'd slammed the tip of his cane into the soft flesh of Wilson's eye until after a pained "Ow!" reached his ears. Thankfully despite a painful black eye, Wilson had been fine but House had berated himself for days for the accident.

Then there was the time House had FINALLY managed to talk Wilson into riding the bike with House into work. Wilson's car had mysteriously blown two tires and had been forced to rely on the diagnostician for a ride. Little did he know that House had been the one to blow the tires (it's amazing how much damage one little swiss army knife can do!) just so he could get his friend on the bike.

Sadly, he had been distracted by the wonderful feeling of Wilson's arms clamped tightly around his waist during a turn and had overcompensated, flipping the bike and flinging its passengers onto the sidewalk. House landed relatively unharmed; a few bruises, a sprained wrist and some slight road rash on his cheek. Wilson on the other hand, had not.

Having not expected the bone-jarring flip, Wilson hadn't been prepared when he was flung off the bike, landing awkwardly on the sidewalk. His hip had been dislocated when his leg made good friends with the curb. The leg had been broken in three places and that wasn't including the fracture of his tib/fib and ankle. He'd broken four ribs, sprained his wrist, broken his arm and collar bone, and received a grade II concussion.

House never heard the end of the lecture for that accident. Every once in awhile whenever Wilson didn't want to cook he'd claim that one of those injuries were bothering him. Usually it was the leg, hip or ankle but sometimes it was even the wrist.

Now, while House didn't doubt that Wilson's entire left leg bothered him from time to time, say after too much use, he didn't try to show that he'd cared so he'd always made Wilson cook anyways. Unfortunately that plan always backfired on him because by the end of the night, Wilson didn't want to do anything but lay in bed with some Tylenol and ice.

Without a word to Wilson, House walked out of the bedroom and immediately grabbed a fresh cup of water. He'd noticed that Wilson's prescription was already on the bedside table so he didn't need to worry about that but the glass beside the bottle had been drained. While he was used to dry swallowing pills, Wilson was not and needed more lubrication than his own spit.

He came back in record time and handed the glass of water to his friend while he poured two pills onto his palm. Wilson took both the water and pills gratefully then quickly swallowed them.

House made a quick scan of his lover before hastily retrieving an ice pack from the freezer and gently placing it around Wilson's ankle. "So, how's the Wombat?" House asked dryly, sitting down on the edge of the bed so he could stare at his friend.

"Shouldn't you know? You just saw him." Wilson commented genuinely confused.

"Is he as good as me? Does he make you groan like I do?" House continued.

Wilson stared at his friend, mouth agape. "House-"

"He said he'd helped you in bed. I figured he means in more way than one." House answered the unasked question.

"No and he didn't really help me in bed. I hopped over to it after placing the crutches against the wall then climbed into on my own. The only thing Chase did was grab some ice, a couple of pillows and water." Wilson explained slowly and suspiciously. This was not good!

While he was aware of and normally encouraged Chase messing with House, this was not one of the ways he liked. THIS way could seriously screw things up and make House mad which was not something Wilson wanted or needed.

Wilson inwardly smiled in relief when he saw some of the tension in House's shoulders ease and his friend slowly morph from a cat ready to pounce into a fox ready curl itself around its lover.

House did exactly what the fox wanted to. Slowly he stood up, walked around to the other side of the bed, climbed on and gently wrapped his arm and leg around Wilson. If Wilson hadn't watched the action he would have thought a vine had worked itself into his bed and wrapped its tendrils lovingly around him.

Possessive was an emotion that House was good at and it now poured off of him, seeping into Wilson's pores then filling him with the warm feeling he usually got from it. Mixed in with the warmth this time, however, was also anger. Some small part of the oncologist wanted to scream at his lover – _What right do you have to be possessive of me? You have ignored me until it was at your convenience more often than I can count in the past six months! If it's not sex you want then it's a live-in cook, maid and laundry service. !_

Years of practice keeping his true opinion to himself kicked in, leaving Wilson caught in between furious and loved. If he had a guess, Wilson would say that House felt the same exact way right now.

While House appeared relaxed, the firmness with which he held onto Wilson said that he was still angry but whether it was with Wilson himself or Chase, he didn't know. The gentleness with which he kept that firm hold however, told Wilson that the older man deeply cared about him and didn't wish to harm him.

Wilson's phone chirped, announcing a new voicemail. He checked to make sure it wasn't the hospital and wasn't surprised to find a message from Chase checking to see if he was still needed. Obviously the intensivist had noticed that his boss was gone and didn't wish to intrude.

He smiled appreciatively with the amount of thought and concern Chase seemed to be giving him. A small part of him wished House hadn't come so that Chase COULD come by. He liked having someone so gentle and reassuring care for him. Before today he hadn't actually thought Chase even saw him in more than a friendship setting. The same part that wished House wasn't here in his bed also wished the Australian had showed how he felt before he'd gotten involved with House.

Immediately he felt guilty. The last year with House hadn't been perfect but neither man was perfect. Wilson knew what House was like and had no right to expect more of him than the man could give. He knew what things would be like and he had no right to demand more. Did he?

Quickly, Wilson responded to the message to let Chase know that he was fine and that Yes, he would call if he needed anything. He placed his phone back on the table then turned his attention back to the stone slab of a man who lay curled around him.

"Making plans with your new lover?" House asked flatly.

Wilson let out a heavy sigh of frustration before answering, "No. Chase was checking to make sure he wasn't needed tonight."

"Did you tell him to come on by?"

"No, should I have?"

House shrugged, "I don't know how long I'll be here." He winced when he practically heard Wilson's heart break at his words. He could tell from the heartbeat pounding wildly in his friend's chest and the shallow breaths he was taking that Wilson was upset but it was the truth. He hadn't planned on staying all night. However that didn't mean that he could.

"Oh." Wilson answered quietly. He'd hoped House would stay with him through the night but he understood House's reasons for not wanting to. While he was a doctor, House had never been an overly caring person and asking him to deal with a sick or injured person out of the hospital was like asking a lion to become a vegetarian – it just didn't happen.

"Stop." House commanded sharply. "I just wasn't prepared to stay. If you'll be okay for an hour, I'll go get some things, a refill and some food."

Wilson's taut body became mush with relief. Of course House had known what he was thinking and had managed to reassure him that his conclusions hadn't been the reason without actually coming right out and saying it. "I'll be okay." He assured. _Even if I won't be, I'll manage if it means having you here with me. _He added silently.

House eyed him suspiciously for a few minutes before nodding. Being the mind reader he was, he'd heard the silent statement from his friend. He nodded then eased himself off the bed. Limping over to Wilson's side of the bed, he catalogued everything in the room to make sure that Wilson wouldn't have to get up at all. He moved the crutches closer with a meaningful look at his friend then bent down, gave him a kiss, a smirk and left.

Wilson closed his eyes and let out a breath relief. He couldn't believe that House was actually going to stay with him and take care of him! Either the whole Chase thing bugged the diagnostician more than he was willing to admit or his "Grinch Heart" was growing a few sizes. Either way Wilson was glad and wasn't going to argue. Sure, the care wouldn't be outright but over the years Wilson had learned how to read between the lines.

**AN: Sorry for taking so long to update! RL has been keeping me REALLY busy and I'm afraid it will continue to do so but I will try to post Chapter 4 as soon as possible. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

Wilson sat on the outdoor ledge that separated House's office from his, eating what was supposed to be his breakfast cereal but thanks to another one of his hectic mornings it was now his mid lunch and dinner cereal. His right hip balanced precariously on the ledge while his left leg supported and held him steady.

The mid-June sun shone down, kissing his ivory skin tan while a summer's breeze kicked up, carrying with it the smells of Lilac, Jasmine, Roses and many others. It had been over two months since House's April Fool's joke had backfired and despite the pain the whole incident had caused, Wilson was glad that it had happened. House had been more attentive to him over the past two months than he had the previous seven altogether. Wilson suspected it had something to do with Chase's extra attention during his recovery.

Even after Wilson had told the intensivist that he would be fine, Chase had insisted on checking up on the older man. Despite the evidence supplied by House via extreme and often times unprofessional public displays of affection, Chase seemed unwilling to believe that House would be there for Wilson when he needed it. However, given the deep blush that seemed to appear on the Australian's cheeks, Wilson guessed that there was more to it than that.

One week after that accident, Wilson had had surgery to fix the damage done to his ankle. The post-op and rehabilitation afterwards had been torture. It had taken a lot of will power not to whine every time he'd gone to physical therapy; every time he thought about it complaining, he remembered the pain his friend went through daily and managed to keep his misery to himself.

The ankle had only recently gotten to where it could handle weight with only a brace to help support it. Wilson was still left limping around everywhere but the limp was slowly, very slowly, fading. It hurt most days, especially on those (like today) that were extremely busy effectively keeping the oncologist on his feet all day.

"Shouldn't you be in your office babying your ankle?" A familiar gruff voice scolded uncaringly, breaking through his thoughts.

Wilson ignored the jab and turned to look at House who was leaning nonchalantly against the doorway with his legs crossed, his left supporting the rest of him. He was twirling his cane expertly in his hand, his slender, pianist fingers performing a dance of intertwining expertly between the wood and each other. "Shouldn't you be scaring your patient into an experimental surgery?"

House shrugged, "I've got Foreman on it. Thought a homey might do a better job."

Wilson chuckled lightly and rolled his eyes while he eased off the wall, put his bowl down on a small table then spun unevenly around to once again look at his lover. "You ready to go home?"

"Not yet," House answered with a minute shake of his head. He straightened up and limped further out on the balcony, "Gotta make sure the moronic patient does what I want him to."

Wilson nodded his understanding when in truth he never agreed with this portion of House's practice. Bullying patients into doing what you the doctor wants them to do was not something the oncologist believed in. He preferred his patients to make their own decisions with minimal guidance from him.

The late night at work excuse from House wasn't surprising to the younger man either. Lately House had been using the excuse of his patient to stay late at work then come home when he was sure that Wilson would already be asleep. He hated that the diagnostician lied to him daily but he wasn't going to call his friend on it until it became necessary.

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then." Wilson turned around, grabbed his bowl and started limping toward the door. He was glad that his back was turned since he couldn't hide the grimace the step on his right leg caused.

"You won't be there when I get home?" House asked confused as to why his friend gave in so easily. He knew Wilson knew he was lying about having to stay late but when the oncologist didn't call him on it, like he so frequently did, House grew suspicious.

"No, I'm going to stay at my place tonight." Wilson answered, turning around to face House while his hand subconsciously went to the small of his back and began to rub gentle circles. "I think my back needs a few good nights in my own bed."

The miniscule movement of his eyebrows heading towards the middle of his face was the only expression House gave that he cared. He had noticed that Wilson seemed to be moving stiffly today but he chalked it up to Wilson's ankle bothering him. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

Wilson was about to respond when House suddenly turned on his heel and exited the balcony leaving a stunned and confused Wilson alone.

* * *

><p>"Wilson!" Chase called out stopping Wilson mid-step. He jogged lightly up to the patiently waiting oncologist. "Are you going home?"<p>

Wilson smirked boyishly, "That is usually where one goes when they leave work." He waited until Chase had fully caught up with him before he continued the trek to his car.

_Not House, he heads for the bar._ Chase thought but if Wilson didn't already know that he would be surprised. "How about some dinner first?" Chase asked lightly, "I know that you're a good cook but I'm not and would appreciate the company."

Wilson stopped mid-step once again and studied Chase in stunned silence. He couldn't deny that the thought of going to an empty apartment only to cook for himself and fall asleep on the couch wasn't particularly appealing and this might give him a chance to decide what to do about the "Chase Situation". However the thought of just how jealous it would make House as almost enough to make him decline – almost. "That sounds like a great idea. Where should I meet you?"

Chase grinned widely, something few got to see. Sure many girls had seen him smile, slyly heck almost seductively but a true grin was something he hadn't let out since Cameron had left. "How about Vivace*? Do you know where it is?"

"Yeah I do." Wilson answered with a nod. "I'll see you there in about ten minutes."

"Good." Chase answered with a head nod of his own before turning and heading to his own car.

* * *

><p>"You okay?" Chase asked noticing with concern that Wilson's limp had become more pronounced since he'd seen the oncologist this morning. They had just finished their meal and were walking out to their cars.<p>

"Yeah, just a long day." Wilson answered with a wince and a sigh.

Chase nodded his understanding. Wilson had the heaviest caseload of the department heads at the hospital. The oncologist saying it was a long day was his way of saying that he had spent the entire day on his feet which made the still healing ankle hurt more. "Maybe you should wear the boot on days like that?"

Wilson shrugged. He knew Chase had a point but he hated wearing the boot. He hated the attention he got from patients and colleagues alike while wearing it; not to mention that it really wasn't comfortable though given today he'd trade the comfort for being able to walk without pain shooting through his leg.

The boot was the walking cast the podiatrist had given him when she'd noticed how antsy Wilson had become from his lack of mobility. After she'd given him the brace, which was monumentally less invasive and eye catching, Dr. Thomas had told him to keep the boot around for days when he'd be walking a lot.

"_Your ankle may be 'mostly healed' _(Yes, she'd used finger quotes!), _but it still isn't up to lots of walking." _She'd lectured while pointing her finger at him like a child.

Evelynne Thomas was a young doctor but easily the best of her field. She'd learned quickly what Wilson was like and what his preferences were then tried to work with them rather than forcing her own way.

"Well, thanks for dinner Chase. It was good." Wilson said when they'd reached their cars. They'd arrived at the same time and had parked right beside each other.

Chase stood for a minute debating whether or not to make a move before he responded, "You're welcome. We should do this again."

"Yes, we should." Wilson conceded with his boyish smile. He leaned lazily against his car, his right leg crossing at the ankles with his left with his arms across his chest.

Chase took a step or two forward, invading Wilson's personal space. His blue eyes were ablaze with the desire he felt while his cheeks burned red with heat. He leaned in, placing his arms on opposite sides of Wilson's face then, without thinking, covered the oncologist's mouth with his own.

A warmth that Chase hadn't felt before spread through his body starting where his mouth connected with Wilson's and ended at his extremities. He leaned in more, pleasantly surprised when the older man's mouth opened slightly to allow entrance.

Wilson tasted like the Parmesan Veal he'd had for dinner and mint. He tasted sweet and salty at the same time while still being delicious. He was warm and inviting while still holding Chase at a distance.

It was enough to drive Chase mad. How House could sleep in the same bed with this man night after night and not do anything more than just sleep was beyond Chase. If he had his way, Wilson would be in his bed, naked. The hazelnut brown hair would be mussed and untidy. The beautiful ivory cheeks would be flush with red from heat and his teeth chewing seductively and suggestively on his lip while Chase brings pleasure to him over and over and over.

Perhaps the thing he craves to see most is those milk chocolate brown eyes turn to melted molasses with desire, pleasure, longing and hunger all aimed at him.

Chase pulled back panting from the emotions and desire coursing through him coupled with the lack of oxygen from the kiss. He stared at Wilson, trying to gauge the older man's thoughts by the expression on his face.

Wilson's cheeks burned crimson with a mixture of emotions that he didn't know if he'd ever admit to. He panted from oxygen depravation and used his arms to push away from the car, balancing on unsteady legs.

Without taking a minute to think about what he was doing, Wilson pulled Chase back in for another kiss. This kiss didn't last nearly as long as the other but was just as passionate.

Chase leaned into the oncologist, his longing and strength knocking the other man off balance and ending their kiss abruptly as Wilson pulled back with a gasp and grimace of pain. "Sorry." He apologized sincerely. Whether he was more sorry about ending the kiss or for hurting Wilson, he didn't know.

"It's okay." Wilson forgave with a slight grimace as he stepped away from Chase then opened his door. He wanted to say more – to assure the Australian that he did want this but he also wanted House, to decide what they should do about the whole situation but instead he slowly lowered himself into the silver Volvo and turned the car on.

"We'll talk later." Chase assured, easily reading the desire in the oncologist's eyes. He turned around and got into his own car, breathing an uneasy breath as he closed the door and started it. If House EVERY found out what he had just been doing with his boss' lover, he'd never survive.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

Wilson walked into his quiet apartment thankful for the silence that greeted him. When his living room light turned on, Wilson wasn't all that surprised to find House sitting in the armchair opposite the door. He also wasn't that surprised to see the fire of anger and jealousy that burned dully in the ice blue eyes. "Hey," he greeted.

"How was dinner?" House grilled.

Wilson slowly limped into the living room, wary of House's reaction. Obviously the diagnostician knew about the dinner with Chase but he wasn't sure just how much he should reveal about what had happened after. "It was good. It's nice to get out every once in awhile." There was a pause then, "House, I, I-"

"You kissed him." House answered with a knowing smirk.

"Yeah, God House - I am so sorry." Wilson replied, shifting his weight to his left. The throbbing in his ankle wasn't letting up and the longer he stood on it, the more the pain increased in intensity.

"Though, technically he kissed you." House answered lightly, screwing up his eyes with the technicality. "He called me." House answered Wilson's blank stare.

House stood up and limped over to where Wilson was standing in the middle of the living room looking dejected and remorseful. "Come here," he said as he pulled Wilson into him, noting with an inward frown how little weight his friend was trying to place on his ankle.

They embraced in a forgiving, loving hug. Just when Wilson thought he would break down in tears House whispered in his ear, "Don't think this means that you won't be sleeping on the couch for the next week."

Wilson wanted to argue that his back couldn't take the couch for an entire week but he knew he deserved the pain and punishment so stayed silent.

"Unless of course, you're spending the evening giving me whatever I want in bed. Then you can sleep with me." House continued with a warming glint in his eyes, "Which of course will be every night except tonight. I'm too tired." House pulled back and studied the man before him. "Right now I think we should get you off your feet. You never did take my advice and baby your ankle did you?"

Wilson looked up, "That was advice? Because to me it sounded like a snark."

"Maybe it was both." House replied as he gently ushered Wilson to the couch then seated himself on the coffee table opposite.

Wilson relaxed into the couch, breathing out a sigh of relief when he was finally able to lay there and get off his ankle. Suddenly a thought occurred to him, "Have you eaten dinner?"

"Nope." House answered, staring intently at his friend and studying him.

Wilson nodded then eased himself regrettably off the couch. "What do you want? I have some chicken, peppers, pasta, tomato sauce, parmesan…" He began, naming everything he could think of that was in his kitchen. After all the hell he'd no doubt put House through tonight, the least he could do was make the older man dinner.

"I want you to sit back down and baby that ankle." House answered exasperatedly.

Wilson turned around from his slow trek into the kitchen and stared questioningly at his friend. "Why are you being so nice to me? About this?"

"Because I know I pushed you into this. It's not your fault." House forgave.

"House, don't do that to yourself. This is my fault, not yours. I swear though, I don't know why I let him kiss me. It just felt so good to have someone pay attention and want me."

"You don't think I want you?" House countered astonished.

"Lately, no. I know you're lying to me when you say you have to stay late for work. I know that for some reason, you're staying late to avoid me and I have no idea why. I know I've been a pain in the ass lately and more than likely a burden but I didn't think that was worthy of avoidance. I guess I was wrong."

The hurt in Wilson's eyes struck House in the gut. "You think I've been avoiding you because you've been injured and needing more help from me? You're an idiot."

Wilson crinkled his eyebrows, blinked then cocked his head in confusion. "Well then why is it that it takes my going to dinner with someone else to actually get you to spend time with me?"

"Wow, you really are a girl!" House chuckled. "Did you ever think I was planning something? Something that I didn't want you knowing which would not only defeat the purpose of a surprise but ruin it as well?"

Wilson opened his mouth to answer but found he had none. He hadn't thought of that actually. He'd just assumed that House had grown tired of him and wasn't mature enough to say anything. Once again he shifted his weight, grimacing as pain shot through his lower leg. "You need to eat. What do you want?" He asked, expertly changing the subject.

"I already told you what I want." House replied folding his arms across his chest. "I want you to lie back down on that couch."

"I know that but you can't eat that."

"You mean I can't eat you?" House cried in over-acted shock and disappointment.

Wilson smiled, "Well, I'm sure you could but I wouldn't do anything to slate your hunger."

"Depends what I'm hungry for." House answered with a seductive glint in his eyes that threatened to melt Wilson then and there. "But not tonight. You're in trouble mister!" He jokingly scolded.

"Doesn't it seem cruel to deprive yourself just because I'm in trouble?" Wilson countered with an innocent look on his face.

"Nuh-uh, that's not going to work on me. Tonight you will be sleeping on the couch with an ice pack over your elevated ankle. End of story." House said stubbornly.

A knock at the door interrupted Wilson's next thought. House limped over to the door, pulling Wilson's wallet out of his suit jacket pocket before he got there, opened the door, handed a $20 bill to the delivery boy, grabbed the bag of food then closed the door behind him.

He limped over, placed the bag on the coffee table and pulled up the armchair that he had begun his evening at Wilson's in to sit in, leaving the entire couch for Wilson to lay on.

Wilson gave a heavy sigh but took the hint and limped back over to the couch, collapsing onto it but sitting up to keep House company since he wasn't ready for bed yet.

Without a word House stood up, grabbed a pillow from the spare bedroom and a bag of frozen vegetables from the freezer then came back, sandwiching Wilson's throbbing ankle in between the items. He sat back down in his armchair and continued to unload the food containers from the bag like nothing had happened.

House offered Wilson a plate of Chinese food before piling food onto his own then began chewing quietly. Each man ate their food and watched the other, the silence in the room comfortable enough that neither one felt the need to break it.

When the meal finished, Wilson got up to change out of his work clothes. The ice had helped but he could still feel a twinge every time he put his full weight on the ankle so he continued with his uncomfortably slow limping pace. How on Earth House puts up with this daily, he'd never understand.

He returned to find House still sitting in the armchair. The only evidence that he had gotten up was the clean table, the food containers in the trash, and the dirty plates in the sink.

House stood when he noticed Wilson coming back into the living room. He walked over, gave Wilson a quick peck on the cheek then said, "Good night Wilson," before he limped into the vacant bedroom.

"Good night House. I love you." Wilson whispered to no one in particular since House had already closed the bedroom door.

"I love you too!" House yelled in response earning a broad smile from the man on the couch. At that moment, Wilson was thankful for the freakishly good hearing which most days plagued the oncologist and made it even harder to keep a secret from his friend.

* * *

><p>House and Wilson walked into PPTH the next morning, both smiling broadly and walking slowly. Normally Wilson walking slowly merely meant that he had automatically adjusted his pace to match House's but this morning there was a stiffness to it that concerned Chase.<p>

He admitted openly to Cameron that he had been completely shocked when he had called House to tell him about the kisses only to have House laugh and say, "Don't worry about it." It was completely unnatural for the taciturn diagnostician to be so…forgiving.

As concerned as he was about Wilson's posture, Chase was extremely relieved to see both men smiling and joking like nothing had happened.

House and Wilson walked up to Chase while he stood rooted in the spot, lost in his thoughts.

"Chase," Wilson called, breaking him out of his stupor.

"Wilson." He greeted with a nod in both the oncologist and the diagnostician's ways. "How are you?"

"He slept on the couch last night," House answered for his friend knowing full well what Chase was getting at.

Blond eyebrows met in the middle of an ivory forehead, "I thought that wasn't good for your back?" Chase asked.

"It's not which is why he's walking stiffly today." House supplied once again.

"You knew that it would hurt him to sleep on the couch, yet you did it anyways? Are you sure you care at all about him?" Chase questioned while they stepped into the elevator and Wilson pressed the number 4 button.

"Chase," Wilson replied curtly, "I appreciate the concern but it's not a big deal and honestly, I'm glad that he did it."

Both diagnostic men turned confused glances on Wilson. "You think you deserve the pain." Chase announced, trying to wrap his mind around it.

"Yes." Wilson answered simply before stepping off the elevator and heading to his office. Before he entered, the oncologist turned gently around and lectured, "you two boys play nicely today. Don't make me come and separate you two."

"But mom!" House whined pathetically with a smile in his eyes. He and Chase headed to their own department.

"His ankle seems to be feeling better." The intensivist commented off-handedly.

"Don't be fooled by the lack of limp, it's still bothering him. He's just able to ignore it right now." House answered.

Chase cocked his head at the comment and at the fact that they had passed the diagnostic's conference room but didn't comment on the latter. "How do you know?"

"Another challenge?" House asked, his patience growing thinner with every question.

"No, just curious."

"He wakes up every morning hurting. The ankle stiffens up over night and it takes a few minutes for the healing muscles and ligaments to loosen. By the time he's gotten to work, he's already done more than the joint likes and is letting him know." The scruffy doctor answered factually.

"That shouldn't be happening." Chase answered, so much concern dripping off his voice that House was shocked there weren't track marks on the floor.

"I know."

A thought popped into Chase's mind and he stepped in front of House, stopping the limping man from going any further. "That's why you weren't mad. You need my help."

"Yeah, now get out of my way." House answered annoyed that he had to admit it.

"Help with what?" Cameron asked.

"Where'd you come from?" Chase asked, sparing them all a sarcastic comment from House.

"Saw you guys walking, thought we'd join you." She answered. "So, help with what?"

"Nothing, we got a case?" House asked segueing away from the subject of Wilson.

"Nope but Cuddy did say that you would be spending the entire day in the clinic." Foreman answered smugly before walking away to help whatever department he'd been assigned to for the day.

Quickly the other two fellows scampered away before their boss could assign them to the clinic in his stead leaving a very unhappy House standing alone in the middle of the hallway.

He had just walked into the clinic when Cuddy's voice cut through the sniffling of the common colds sitting in the waiting area. "House, my office."

House offered an unapologetic smile to those who had been waiting then turned around to follow, admiring the view of Cuddy's ass in front of him.

"What's wrong with Wilson?" She asked immediately, waiting only for her doors to close before she started. "He's walking stiffer than normal and he's still limping. His ankle should have been better by now, why is it still bothering him?"

"I'm not a Wilson whisperer." House answered sitting himself down on the comfortable couch in her office.

"No, but I know you know something." Cuddy accused dryly.

"He's fine." House answered lightly, not meeting her gaze.

Cuddy laughed, "You don't believe that and I know you don't. A little birdie told me that you think there's something still wrong with Wilson's ankle."

"Would this birdie be blond and answer to the name of Chase?"

"No actually." She answered, pleased that he hadn't guessed who had told her. "So, what's up?"

"He's fine. He fell asleep on the couch last night so his back hurts today." House dismissed conveniently leaving out the part where it was because he'd kissed Chase.

Cuddy stared at him for a few minutes before responding, "What do you think is wrong with his ankle?"

"Why do you care? It's not affecting his job." House asked, annoyance with her curiosity creeping into his voice.

"I care because he is my friend and experiencing chronic pain. Sound familiar?" She snapped.

"His situation is different." House waved off.

"Yeah it is. You can help him, no one could help you." She paused for a minute to let the words sink in. "So, what do you think is wrong?"

House closed his eyes against the feeling of shame the next three words he was about to utter brought, "I don't know. Best guess, the surgeon screwed up."

Cuddy nodded. Part of her wanted to defend her staff but another part couldn't deny that it was a possibility; they were human after all. "What do you need?"

"X-Rays and an MRI for right now." House conceded knowing that he would indeed need her help if they were going to help the stubborn oncologist.

"You'll have the images by the end of the day." She guaranteed before turning her attention to a new email that had popped onto her screen.

House understood the dismissal for what it was so he stood up and entered what would be his home for the day – the clinic.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

Cuddy click-clacked her way to Wilson's office, her determination to coerce her stubborn Head of Oncology into letting House perform the tests he needed to driving her faster and faster.

Wilson's door opened just as she entered the vicinity of his office. The oncologist was leading a patient out of his office, limping heavily and hurting with every step. While his pain wasn't obvious to his patient, it was to Cuddy. She knew him well enough to know when he was hurting and today was a good example.

"Wilson!" Cuddy called, stalling him from turning around and leaving. "I need to talk to you."

Wilson actually groaned, "What did he do now?"

Cuddy smirked, she knew exactly who he was talking about. Figuring it best to keep Wilson off her scent, "Let's go in your office."

She waited politely while he turned around and slowly headed back to his office. She couldn't refrain herself from asking when he grimaced, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I fell asleep on the couch last night." Wilson explained simply knowing she'd know exactly what he was talking about. There had been a number of times when he'd come in with a hurt back from sleeping on the couch, rolling out of bed so fast and/or picking something, whether it be House or a box, up wrong.

_Sure you did? _Cuddy called out in her head. She knew that both he and House are lying to her but she wasn't going to say anything unless they did.

They walked into Wilson's office. Cuddy automatically walked deeper into the room while she waited for Wilson to close his door and slowly limp over to his desk chair. She'd had no problem with getting an ergonomic chair for him when House had asked. She knew Wilson had a bad back and figured if the chair would help keep her head of oncology healthier and able to do is job while not in pain, so be it!

Cuddy sat down administratively across from Wilson's desk, watching him for every single sign of pain that reflected off her friend. She felt guilty that his ankle was still bothering him, and so did Lucas.

She'd been watching Wilson for a couple of weeks now, knowing that he should be feeling better and growing worried that he wasn't. She'd mentioned it off-handedly to Lucas one night and was relieved to see guilt all over his face.

Lucas had never meant to hurt anyone, not that he'd have had a problem if it had been House who'd gotten injured. Though he wouldn't admit it, Lucas respected Wilson for his loyalty to House. He knew that the oncologist actually had a conscience and knew that that alone would be enough to torment Wilson. He hadn't meant to injure the doctor as well.

"So, what's up?" Wilson asked once he'd settled into his chair. He knew he couldn't hide his pain from Cuddy but he tried none the less. His back protested every single movement he made, no matter how stiff he tired to keep his posture. His ankle had been rebelling against him since he'd gotten up this morning and it wasn't letting up any time soon.

"House thinks there's something still wrong with your ankle." She announced, no longer seeing any point in stalling.

"House is just bored and looking for a new mystery." Wilson dismissed as he grabbed one of the many patient files on his desk.

"I agree with him." She told Wilson softly yet evenly.

Wilson's head snapped up from his paperwork, chocolate brown eyes filled with pain studying charcoal grey eyes of determination. With a heavy sigh he answered, "Cuddy, I'm fine. I probably just need to stay off it for awhile."

"Even if that's the case I want you to get an MRI and X-Ray done before you leave the hospital today." When Wilson opened his mouth to argue, she pressed on, "I know you think you're fine. That nothing's really wrong but I for one would like to be one-hundred percent sure before we dismiss anything."

Wilson sat behind his desk, still staring into Cuddy's blue-grey eyes. He read the unfinished sentence in them. "Cuddy, I really am fine."

"No, you're not. You're in pain daily and I would like to help end the vicious cycle."

Realizing he wasn't going to win and it was easier to just give in Wilson said, "Okay. Have someone come and get me when he's ready."

Cuddy offered a warm yet triumphant smile, "I will."

* * *

><p>House sat at his desk bouncing his Lacrosse ball off the walk when Cuddy walked in. "He's ready whenever you are." She announced.<p>

"Okay, I'll send one of the ducklings in there to get him." House answered without batting an eye. He wanted to ask how she'd managed to talk Wilson into this but he guessed a lecture would follow which was something he really didn't want to hear.

"You know, it might be better if you go get him instead." Cuddy interjected softly, walking more into the office.

"No it wouldn't." House answered before getting up and opening the conference room door. "Chase, go get Wilson an MRI and X-Ray." Chase nodded then stood up and left without uttering a word.

Cuddy scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Why is it so hard for you to show him that you care about him?"

"What makes you think I don't?" House countered.

"You're unwilling to open up a little to get your boyfriend to get an MRI and X-Ray, that's what makes me think you don't." She answered with a glare.

"He probably would have found that more disturbing than me drugging him and doing it without his consent which, coincidentally, was the next option." House answered, sitting back down behind his desk and tossing his ball around again. "Don't you have administrative duties to do?"

Cuddy stared coolly at her head of diagnostic medicine. She knew he meant it as a dismissal and while, yes she did have work to do, she didn't know if she wanted to give in that easily. "Supervising you and making sure Wilson takes care of himself IS my job."

Just then Cuddy's phone shrilled, interrupting their verbal tennis match. She gave House a "don't be an ass" look then left to take the call.

* * *

><p>Chase knocked hesitantly on Wilson's office door. He couldn't believe he was actually NERVOUS about seeing Wilson alone again after last night but House had ordered him to get the oncologist for tests and he wasn't about to disobey that order.<p>

Wilson's soft yet authoritative, "Come in" sounded quietly through the solid oak door so Chase turned the knob and pushed.

The oncologist sat stiffly behind his desk with a stool helping to elevate his right leg. Chase knew automatically just how much the older doctor was hurting; he wouldn't do something like propping up his ankle unless it was really painful. The only times the intensivist could remember Wilson doing that was the first month to six weeks after the accident.

The first couple of weeks were hard on Wilson pain wise, he hardly made it through a full work day and no one blamed him. They'd heard about the accident and the extent of the damage so there was no doubt in their mind how much he was hurting. Especially given the oncologist rarely took anything stronger than T3's for the pain and those only lasted those first couple of weeks.

When Wilson started staying at work longer, he was "confined" (his words) to his office where he could constantly keep his ankle elevated and iced. He met with patients constantly and kept up with his paperwork but those were his only job duties that Cuddy would let him perform until he was more mobile.

He became more mobile when Dr. Thomas gave him a walking cast and a cane. Wilson had pitched a child-like fit when he'd been instructed to use the cane but since he couldn't deny that he'd needed it, eventually Wilson had caved and used it.

It soon became apparent to Chase, and almost everyone else in the hospital, that while the boot (as Wilson so disdainfully called it) made it easier for Wilson to get around, it was also quite painful and tiring for the oncologist to do so. He usually ended up back on the crutches with his ankle "airing out" by the end of the day.

Wilson looked up from his emailing to fix Chase with a curious stare. "House sent me to get you for an MRI and X-Ray." Chase supplied, standing in a determined but relaxed stance that he normally had in front of Wilson.

"Let me finish this email," Wilson replied, "go ahead and have a seat while you wait."

Chase sat comfortably in one of the chairs across from Wilson, watching him type quickly while he answered whatever consult he had been given. Every once in awhile Wilson's eyes would scrunch and his lips would thin with pain. Chase couldn't tell if the pain was coming from Wilson's ankle or his back.

"Alright, let's go." Wilson said, getting gingerly to his feet.

"Maybe I should go get a wheel chair." Chase suggested when Wilson stumbled after trying to put weight on his ankle.

"No, I'm okay." Wilson dismissed, waving his hand in the direction of Chase. He stepped forward again then clattered against the coat rack when his right ankle buckled under the pressure. He grimaced then felt his cheeks go hot when Chase came up to him and offered a hand.

"No, you're not." Chase answered, easily hoisting Wilson off the floor and helping him over to the couch. "Stay there while I go get a wheel chair then we'll go get the tests done."

He exited the office just as House entered, "What happened?"

"Nothing," Wilson lied.

"We could hear the noise in the conference room," House retorted, his eyes scanning the office. He noticed the off-balance coat rack then the way Wilson lay stretched upon the couch. Lightly, he pressed Wilson's right ankle with his finger.

Wilson hissed and groaned as the pain registered in his brain making his leg vibrate with the throbbing. "Ow, what was that for?" He growled.

"You're ankle's gotten worse," House answered, "you can't put weight on it can you?" At Wilson's accusatory glare with deep, pain filled brown eyes House changed his inquiring, diagnostic tone to a softer, apologetic one. "I'm sorry," he said while pulling up a chair and sitting across from his lover. He placed a hand on Wilson's arm, his thumb rubbing little circles in the toned forearm, "I didn't press that hard," he illustrated with his index finger on Wilson's arm, "something's wrong and we need to figure out what."

A daring tear left Wilson's eye causing him to angrily wipe it away. He didn't know if it was the strength of the pain, House's apology and concern or both that made the unwanted salty water fall but he wasn't about to let more come.

House's cerulean blue eyes went from apologetic and caring to sad when he saw the tear escape his friend's eye. He didn't know that his simple, and GENTLE, test would cause Wilson so much pain. The last time he'd seen Wilson in tears with pain was April Fool's when his ankle bone had been pressing against a nerve causing excruciating agony.

"It's okay," Wilson forgave, seeing the transition in his lover's eyes and knowing his thoughts. He placed a comforting, warm hand on top of House's and gave a squeeze.

Chase walked in with the dreaded wheelchair in hand, offering an apologetic shrug when he noticed that he'd interrupted a tender moment.

"Did you bring pain meds?" House snapped, aiming the annoyance he felt with himself at Chase.

"No, I wasn't aware that I needed to." The Australian answered suspiciously.

"Do you really think that twisting and manipulating an ankle that is too painful to hold weight is going to be comfortable?" House pointed out. He nor Wilson were about to tell Chase why House was snapping about getting Wilson some pain relief; it would just be one more thing to make the intensivist think that House didn't care which was something neither one of them needed.

Chase blushed as he realized the truth of House's mocking accusation. "I'll go get some."

"No, just grab some while on the way to X-Ray." House instructed, gently raising Wilson off the couch.

Wilson groaned audibly when he lowered his right leg and the deep, bone throbbing pain increased ten-fold. He realized both Chase and House were staring anxiously at him and tried to offer a reassuring smile but only managed a grimace as pain spiked again.

Chase brought the wheelchair closer then gave House a nod before heading back to diagnostics. He returned no less than two minutes later with an ice pack and a heating pack.

House got Wilson into the chair, lending a strong shoulder when the oncologist needed it. Chase placed the heating pack in between Wilson's back and the wheelchair then raised the right leg of the chair and placed the ice pack on top of his ankle.

"Come on, let's get this over with." Wilson grumbled.

House and Chase rolled their eyes at Wilson's grumble but acquiesced with his request none the less.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: I have just realized that I have unintentionally been merging this story with Emotions. :blushes: Don't worry, it won't be happening any more – I've finished the Emotions story. **

**Bit of a warning for those that like realism in their stories. The medical information in this chapter is no where near based on reality. I'm bending reality to suit my desires. I apologize in advance. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7:<strong>

House anxiously walked around the clinic, taking a patient here and there as he went. Cuddy had caught him on the way to accompany Wilson and had roped him into doing his clinic hours to get them over with while he waited; he wasn't really needed for the tests anyways.

After the first few patients, the rest that had been waiting refused to be seen by him. The few patients he had seen had talked, very loudly, about their experience with him essentially turning the rest off being treated by him.

It was a relief for House but it only served to annoy Cuddy who would pick an unsuspecting clinic patient and coax them into the exam room.

He had just finished telling a clinic patient off (in his own snarky way of course) for coming in to the clinic and wasting his time. They could have bought an ACE bandage at the grocery store, looked up how to wrap their own sprained ankle on the internet and had left him out of it, when his pager beeped with Wilson's office phone number flashing on the display.

Grouchily, House tossed the patient's file onto the nurse's desk and quickly limped to Wilson's office. He arrived in time to see Chase helping Wilson onto his couch; apparently they'd paged him before they'd arrived.

Wilson looked more relaxed than when he left. House could tell that he was still hurting but he could also tell that whatever pain meds Chase had given his friend had helped him immensely.

With Wilson settled on the couch, Chase grabbed the wheelchair and left. He could tell by House's posture and how quickly he'd gotten there that he didn't want Chase there. He'd check in on Wilson later.

Since Wilson was sprawled out on the couch, a pillow and ice pack sandwiching his ankle, House pulled up one of the spare chairs which sat across from his friend's desk. An unknown entity full of possessiveness, neediness and extreme caring took over his body and his hand stretched out of its own accord, gently caressing Wilson's cheek. "How are you?"

After recovering from the shock of just how much concern there was in his friend's voice, Wilson managed a smile. "I'm fine, really."

House gave his lover a glare of disbelief. "While I appreciate that you're trying to reassure me, I'm not one of your bald-headed freaks or ex-wives. I don't need your reassurance. I need the truth."

Confused, Wilson replied, "Do you ever tell me the truth when I ask how you're doing?"

"No but that's because you're normally asking me when you already know the answer."

Wilson offered a bushy, one-eyebrow raise. His expression clearly expressing his thoughts: _Exactly!_

House gave a smirk. He knew that Wilson wasn't doing okay and if he were to be honest with himself, he really did want the reassurance but he wasn't about to let the oncologist off that easy.

He was about to start a sniping lecture when Chase re-entered the office, X-Ray and MRI films in his hand.

House wasn't reassured by the grim look on the intensivist's face and the feeling sank further when he looked at the results.

Wilson, being too tired from the tests and transitioning in and out of the wheelchair, stayed on the couch, refusing to look at the results. He knew that House would tell him what was going on, whether the news was good or bad, and saw no need to move.

Chase and House shared a look before the former nodded and, after giving the man on the couch a quick glance, left.

"So what's the verdict?" Wilson asked lazily.

"The bones in your ankle weren't set properly causing the fibula to heal improperly. That's why it was so easy for you to re-injure the ankle like you did last week." House smiled at Wilson's blush, "Yeah, I noticed. Normally it wouldn't have been a big deal, maybe resulted in an ankle strain, but given the malformation of your ankle it caused a sprain, one that resulted it three complete tears."

Wilson sat on the couch staring at House with his mouth hanging open. There was really something wrong with him? No, that can't be. But House wouldn't make something like this up.

"We'll need to surgically fix the tears and re-break your ankle." House continued clinically, "The recovery will be even longer than before and you WILL go in biweekly to make sure things are healing right. I'll call Cuddy and let her know then I'll call and get you scheduled for the surgery."

"Who will you have do the surgery?" Wilson asked, not fully trusting the same people who "fixed" him up before.

"Chase." House replied, pulling out his cell phone. He dialed Cuddy's number and waited patiently until she picked up.

"_Lisa Cuddy," _She answered apparently not having checked her caller id.

"I need the OR tomorrow." House said not bothering to dilly-dally with the small talk.

"_Okay," _She replied, dragging out the word as she did so, _"what for?"_

"Chase is going to fix Wilson's ankle." Wilson blushed at House's statement earning a dramatic eye roll from the diagnostician. He knew that Wilson hated being the center of attention but right now, it was necessary.

"_What's wrong with it?" _Cuddy asked, concern creeping into her voice.

"The morons in Orthopedics didn't set his ankle properly and it needs to be re-broken. He also fell last week and sprained his ankle. The damage needs to be fixed surgically as well."

Cuddy ignored his jibe at her staff, _"If the damage was that severe, how is it possible he's been able to walk around?" _

"The damage wasn't originally that severe but he hasn't been taking care of himself and kept walking around on the sprain eventually leading to three complete tears." House explained petulantly, throwing a glare at Wilson as he did so.

"_Who's going to perform the surgery?" _She asked with a heavy sigh.

"Chase."

"_And does Chase know that he's going to do this?" _She countered immediately.

House winced. The woman really did know him! "Not yet but he's the next call."

"_Why don't you make sure that he's willing to do this before I schedule it? The surgery schedule is light tomorrow, so waiting another five minutes until you're done bullying him into doing what you want won't hurt." _

"Okay," House answered with a smirk. She really did know him, didn't she? Immediately he hung up and dialed Chase. "Need you for surgery tomorrow." House stated when he heard the line pick up.

"For what?" Chase's thick Australian voice asked.

"Need to fix Wilson's ankle," House answered, the tone of 'DUH' in his voice. He knew Chase had seen the result and knew what would need to be done.

"I-" Chase stuttered, completely shocked. In truth he wasn't comfortable with the task House was asking him to do. Not only would House blame HIM and make his life a living hell if something went wrong but he didn't want to be responsible for causing Wilson that kind of pain.

Sure, the oncologist would be under anesthesia while the initial and more severe pain happened but that didn't account for the post-op and recovery pain. He knew that it wasn't rational; after all, Wilson wasn't about to blame him for it – he might even be grateful that it's someone he trusts fixing him but it still made him a little queasy.

"Chase," House snapped, allowing his thoughts reach through his tone and into the phone.

Chase let out a sigh. Though it was only his name that had been said, he heard the underlying meaning: _**I only trust him with you.**_ "Alright, when do I need to be there?"

"Tomorrow. I'll let you know the specifics when I get them from Cuddy."

Chase nodded then berated himself when he realized that, though House was only next door, he still couldn't see, nor hear, a head nod. Thankfully, he didn't really need to answer. The silence from the other side told him that House had already hung up.

* * *

><p>Wilson sat in pre-op, trying to control his shaking while allowing the nurse to take his vitals. He had slept horribly last night. He'd been very anxious about the surgery and the things that could go wrong and felt completely drained. The only thing that had helped to ease his anxiety was that Chase was performing the surgery.<p>

Chase had stopped by earlier that morning to see him. Wilson could tell that the blond was nervous about doing the surgery but he couldn't tell if it was because, on the off chance that something went wrong House would blame him and torture him for life or if it was because it was Wilson himself that he was doing the surgery on.

Normally, Wilson wasn't that prideful to think that doing surgery on him would cause the veteran surgeon to be nervous but lately the dynamic between he and Chase had changed. He knew he'd be extremely nervous if he had to do surgery on Chase, even if it was just a biopsy.

"Are you ready Dr. Wilson?" Janice asked.

"Yeah, I am." He answered albeit shakily.

Sensing his hesitation and discomfort Janice patted his shoulder, "Don't worry. If you ask me, Dr. Chase is one of the best surgeons here."

"Thanks," he said, giving her a warm smile. It felt good to know that other people thought as highly of Chase as he did. On the other hand, he wondered if she was one of Chase's many conquests lately.

Without another word they wheeled him into the OR and began prepping him. Having been nervous, he had requested to be put under for the surgery rather than just given a local anesthetic. Just before he fell asleep, he noticed the grey, scruffy, hunched form of House in the observatory watching him (and Chase) intently.

He closed his eyes content to know that House was watching over him and allowed the drugs to take him under.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

When Wilson awoke it was to find someone sitting in one of the hard hospital chairs next to his bed. But it wasn't the person he expected to find. Instead of the grey haired, scruffy face of House a blond haired, blue eyed pretty boy sat next to the bed.

Chase sat relaxed in the chair, reading what appeared to be a patient file. After looking more closely, Wilson found that Chase wasn't reading the file, he was documenting in it. He angled his head to see if it was his file or another patient's making Chase look up mid-sentence. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

"Pretty good," Wilson answered, slurring his words together as he did.

Chase smiled, "I see the anesthesia's still wearing off."

"Bippity-Boppity-Boo." Wilson answered, closing his eyes. Suddenly he felt exhausted.

"Get some rest. I'm sure the next time you wake, House will be here to greet you." Chase replied, standing up to leave.

"What are you doing here?" Wilson asked sleepily.

"I'm on assignment. House is busy with a patient and sent me to Wilson-sit."

Something in Chase's deep blue eyes told Wilson that wasn't his only reason for hanging out but he didn't have enough energy to argue. He allowed his heavy eyelids to cover his eyes and fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Wilson's next venture into reality rewarded him with a view of House sitting leisurely in a reclining chair, his reading glasses on and a patient file before him.<p>

"Good Morning Snow White," House greeted softly. He placed the patient file on top of the pile that lay in his lap and turned his full attention to the man in the bed.

"Snow White?" Wilson challenged grumpily as he used the bed controls to sit himself up.

"Well you looked so angelic with your pale skin, dark hair and rosy red lips."

"My lips are not rosy red," Wilson argued.

House smiled adoringly, "Yeah they are." Wilson winced bringing House's next question out of his mouth without a filter to stop the concern in his voice, "How's the ankle?"

"S'okay," Wilson answered, shifting gingerly in the uncomfortable bed.

House rolled his eyes, "Which means it hurts and you need pain meds."

"House, I'll be okay for a bit."

"Yes you will because I just gave you your next dose of meds." House answered triumphantly.

The glare Wilson gave him was undermined by the grogginess in the brown eyes. The meds were starting to take effect, much to House's unannounced relief.

He grabbed Wilson's hand, using his thumb to rub gentle circles over the dry skin. "Sleep Wilson, I'll be here when you wake up."

Wilson quit fighting the drugs that were dragging him under at House's promise and allowed pleasant darkness to take him.

* * *

><p>Sharp, deep, throbbing pain greeted him when he awoke again. Wilson hissed when the pain registered in his drug addled brain.<p>

"Wilson?" House called, his chair scraping against the tiled floor as he stood. Limping footsteps echoed from around the left side of his bed to the right then the clattering of objects of the nurse's drawer in his room.

Wilson opened his eyes to find House plunging medicine into his IV. The ice feeling of liquid Percoset flowing through his veins, putting out the fires of pain in his ankle and foot was a welcome relief. He let loose a breath of relief when the fire ebbed and looked up to find an anxious House still standing next to the supply cart, ready in case more is needed. "Thanks," he assured gratefully.

House wasn't fully sure Wilson was doing okay so he continued to stand alert next to the bed, his thigh screaming at him for daring to continue to use it after the quick trip over to the supply cart in the first place.

"House, really, I'm okay." Wilson continued to assure when he noticed that House wasn't moving. "You should sit down, your leg has got to be killing you."

House studied Wilson then looked at the heart monitor. If Wilson was still in pain the monitor would let him know. But when he looked at it, he about collapsed with relief. The line beeped steadily, maybe even a bit slow, telling him that its subject was relaxed and calm.

His diagnosing blue eyes ran over the prone form of his lover, lingering longingly over the exposed clavicle that begged to be nibbled on. House forced his eyes to move downward, avoiding Wilson's groin in an attempt to not spend the rest of the day walking around with a hard on at the mere thought of Wilson naked in bed.

Cerulean eyes landed on the very swollen ankle and foot, giving him an excuse to get out of the room for a bit to compose himself. "You need ice." He announced.

Wilson blinked and cocked his head in confusion, "Okay." IT was disappointing that House seemed to want to get away from him but he guessed that if anyone could understand it, Wilson could.

House hadn't liked seeing Wilson in that much pain. It had bothered him more than he'd EVER admit to see someone he loves in such agony that tears had begun to fall down his cheeks. Obviously he wanted to get out of the room to shake it off and maybe even feel like he's of some use.

Oh yes, Wilson definitely understood it. He felt that way daily as he watched House deteriorate from the constant pain he's being put through. If he could, he'd take the pain for House. It would be easier to be the one feeling it than watching it slowly kill the man he loves.

A tickle in the back of his throat told Wilson that he needed to get some liquid into his parched mouth. He looked around the room for something to use to bring the rolling table closer and locked on House's cane. He must have left it here in his hurry.

Careful not to bump or bother his elevated ankle, Wilson sat up, grabbed the cane and hooked it around the legs of the table, pulling it towards him. He poured a cup of tepid water then drank it as slowly as his parched mouth would let him.

Three glasses of water, two minutes and one cane later, House returned with a standard hospital ice pack in his hand. Gently, he placed the pack over Wilson's ankle and foot then limped heavily back to his original spot by the bed.

"You're going to drown yourself," House scolded lightly when Wilson poured himself a fourth glass of water effectively emptying the pitcher.

"Well, if you're going to drown, what better place to do it than in a hospital?" Wilson answered, changing slightly House's words to him from three years ago.

"Just wait a few minutes at least. I'm too tired to give you mouth to mouth and no one else is allowed to touch those lips." House answered without effort.

Wilson smiled, "I have to wait anyways since the pitcher's empty."

"Good," House replied tiredly.

"You should go get some sleep, you're clearly exhausted." Wilson suggested softly.

"It's 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Not all of us can sleep all day." House countered.

"Please," Wilson scoffed lightly, "I've woken up from naps in the clinic at noon. You're shift's almost done anyways. Just go home."

"What if you drown?" House asked faking worried innocence as he did.

"I think I may take another nap here in a bit anyways. I promise not to drown while you're gone." Wilson assured, using what little strength he had to nudge House out of the chair.

"Alright, fine. I'll be by tomorrow to take you home." House answered, shrugging off the motherly nudging with an annoyed air.

"I'm going home tomorrow?" Wilson asked, allowing hope to enter his tone.

"Yeah, Chase says that he sees no reason to keep you here longer. You're pain should be reduced a little by tomorrow and controlled with oral meds."

"And you trust Chase?" Wilson joked with a tired smile.

"No but I know he wouldn't let his precious Wilson leave the hospital if he wasn't sure." House mocked in return.

"I thought I was your Wilson."

"Just shut up and go to sleep." House sniped, annoyed that Wilson had caught him trusting Chase's judgment.

"Get some sleep House." Wilson responded before closing his eyes and falling into a drug induced sleep.

House stood at the door of the room for a few minutes longer, watching his friend slumber peacefully, burning the image into his mind to get rid of the image of Wilson rigid with pain. Tonight he would sleep well knowing Wilson was pain free and resting comfortably.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading, please review and let me know what you think!<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

House arrived bright eyed and bushy tailed at 8am sharp the next morning to pick Wilson up from the hospital. Of course, like every other doctor in the hospital, he knew that Wilson wouldn't be released until noon but he figured maybe if he got there early enough and annoyed the entire staff, they'd let Wilson out earlier.

Unsurprisingly, Wilson was still asleep. The over night nurse had told him that he had had his most recent dose of pain meds which always make him sleepy. Luckily that will stop once he stops getting intravenous pain meds. House has plans for he and Wilson, most of which involved Wilson flat on his back, in bed and, preferably, naked.

Settling in for hours of Wilson watching, House allowed the ugly, olive green recliner to swallow him whole.

Wilson snorted awake, wiping away the drool that trickled down his face.

"Dorothy," House's voice called with false sweetness, "time to wake up Dorothy."

"Go away Tin Man." Wilson grumbled, rubbing his eyes to wake himself up more.

House frowned, "Should I check for a brain injury? You of all people should know that I'm the all powerful Oz."

Wilson let House's comment go unchecked, fueling the already massive ego even more. He grimaced as pain spiked in his leg, brief but unexpected. They had taken him off the stronger meds and put him on Tylenol 3 (at his own request) sometime while he slept. No doubt House would try to drug him with something stronger when they got home; no matter how indifferent he acts, Wilson knows that House doesn't like to see him in pain.

"You okay?" House asked, having caught the grimace that briefly crossed Wilson's face.

"Yeah, just caught me by surprise." Wilson answered almost apologetically.

The door to his room opened, admitting Chase holding onto a patient chart with a smug look on his face and a swagger in his step. "Good morning," he greeted cheerfully, "it seems that your medical proxy has demanded that you be allowed to leave early and has been bugging the staff every ten minutes until they agreed to call me and get my approval for your release."

"Why your approval?" Wilson asked confused. Normally it was the attending physician who was in charge of discharging the patients, not the surgeon.

Chase walked over to the vacant side of Wilson's bed, "I'm your attending physician."

Placing the chart on the vacant bedside table, Chase began to examine Wilson's swollen, bandaged ankle. Being careful not to cause more pain than necessary, he gently poked and palpitated the joint, making sure it was healing according to schedule.

"Looks good," he commented, signing the forms for Wilson's release, "No sign of infection, the swelling has gone down slightly. How's the pain? Give me a number."

"About a 5." Wilson answered lightly.

"And rising." House added throwing a glare in Wilson's direction which Wilson returned with ease.

"Right," Chase interjected while looking at the glares each man was throwing the other, "well, I've got your pain meds here in case you need them. I'll go grab a wheelchair then go over the discharge paperwork."

"No need Wombat." House replied before Chase had left. "Wilson's a doctor, got his own certificate to prove it. I think he knows the technical jargon by now."

Chase just threw a look at his boss that clearly stated "I'm going to go over it with him anyways" then left.

House stood up and limped over to where the amber prescription bottle sat inconspicuously on the bedside table. He read the label, placed the bottle back on the table with more force than was necessary then walked back over to his seat, not even bothering to offer Wilson any pain relief which House knew he could use.

"You're an idiot," he lectured, almost growling. He hated seeing Wilson in pain and Wilson knew it yet he still refused to take any strong pain medication.

"House-"

"Did you request those?" House demanded, cutting Wilson's placating reply.

"Yes," Wilson answered, scrubbing a hand over his face, "the pain isn't as bad as it was and it's only going to get better. There's no need for anything stronger."

House stared appraisingly at the oncologist for a few moments before he turned his gaze towards the soap on TV. "Fine but don't come whining to me when the stronger pain meds wear off and you really begin to feel the damage done."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Wilson commented dryly.

* * *

><p>"Home sweet home," House commented cheerily as Wilson crutched his way into House's apartment.<p>

"Tell me again why you brought me to your apartment," Wilson prompted grumpily as he placed his crutches against the couch and sat down. The ride from the hospital hadn't been as bad as it could have been considering House's insane driving but it hadn't been pain free either.

Every bump jarred his damaged ankle, sending warm, throbbing pain searing throughout his lower leg. The pain meds Chase had left for him had been strong enough to dampen the pain to a more tolerable level but it never went away. He kept quiet about his discomfort however. He knew House would just think he was whining since it was his fault he didn't have stronger pain meds.

Wilson mentally shrugged. The only times the level of pain medication would be a problem was while he was upright or in a car which he didn't anticipate happening for a few days to a week at least.

Cuddy had visited his room and told him that he would be taking at least one week off work if not two. He'd tried to argue but she wouldn't hear of it and threatened that if he continued to argue, she'd make it longer.

"Because I have all my stuff here. It makes it easier when taking care of you." House snarked, limping into the kitchen to grab a beer.

The insinuation that House didn't want to take care of him stung more than he'd liked to admit. After all, was he really that hard to take care of? "No one asked you to babysit me House. I'll be perfectly fine at home."

"And chance you breaking your other leg? No thanks. An injured Wilson is bad enough. An immobile Wilson is not something I'm willing to put up with." House answered, plopping down on the couch next to Wilson.

He honestly didn't mind taking care of his friend and if he was really being honest with himself, he felt better having Wilson here where he could keep an eye on the oncologist. There was no way he'd tell Wilson that however.

Wilson let out a heavy sigh, "Will you take me home please?"

House turned to face his lover, stunned by the sudden request to leave what Wilson usually referred to as his home. "Nope."

The oncologist started rummaging through his clothing but soon stopped with a frustrated huff. He ran a hand over his tired face, trying to hide the pain from his body, the sting from House's lack of concern and the exhaustion from the past few days in general.

House being House however saw it all. He didn't need to see Wilson's face to know exactly what he was feeling. His friend's body language said it all. He knew that Wilson had been searching for his cell phone, which House was smart enough to grab and store in his own pockets. The tension in the younger man's shoulders alone spoke volumes about his discomfort yet the defeated slouch showed how tired he was.

Hesitantly, House put a soft hand on Wilson's thigh. He gave it a light squeeze to nudge Wilson into looking at him, which the oncologist did with, not surprisingly, red, pain filled eyes. House didn't say anything. Instead he allowed his eyes to show Wilson what he felt but couldn't say.

He knew the message got through when Wilson's eyes filled with tears but instead of reflecting pain, the brown eyes shown bright with gratitude and affection. "Come on. Time for bed." House said, gently pushing Wilson forward on the couch.

"House it's 1 o'clock in the afternoon, I can't go to bed right now." Wilson objected prissily.

"You're injured and unemployed for the next week. You can go to bed whenever you want." House replied pushing himself off the couch and limping over to where Wilson's crutches lay.

Wilson wanted to argue some more but when he opened his mouth to do so, a jaw-cracking yawn escaped instead. "I'll just stay here," he told the impatiently waiting diagnostician. The thought of moving wasn't very pleasing at the moment and he'd slept on House's couch many times before.

"Uh-uh," House objected with the maturity of a five year old, "your back couldn't handle that couch and your ankle will be more comfortable without the confines of the couch."

Firmly he hauled Wilson upright, holding him steady until Wilson's equilibrium returned. Then he pulled away and handed the oncologist his crutches, stepped back and pointed toward the bedroom. "Go." He commanded.

Knowing it was futile to argue (House had just physically hauled him up hadn't he?), Wilson started making his way to the bedroom. The jarring vibrations that resounded throughout his injured ankle every time his good foot hit the floorboards made him wince but he kept any sound of pain from escaping his mouth, not wanting to let House know just how uncomfortable he was.

He crutched over to his side of the bed and propped the crutches against the unoccupied bit of wall between the bed and bedside table. He hopped over to the bed then gently lowered himself onto it. He was grateful that House had talked him into staying in the hospital scrubs, though it hadn't been easy. Though they smelled like the hospital, they were light enough to feel like pajamas, making it unnecessary for him to change clothes.

House appeared next to the bed holding an extra pillow, an ice pack and a cup of water. How that man managed to carry so much with only having one good hand, Wilson would never understand but at that moment he didn't really care. The rattle of pills in the older man's pocket told Wilson that he had a prescription bottle of pain meds there but whose they were, he didn't know.

Wilson lay down on the bed, gently easing his injured leg onto the pillow top mattress. He remained limp when he felt cold, gentle hands raise his right leg, place a feather pillow underneath it, lower the leg then place the ice pack on top of his bandaged ankle.

Blessed cold soaked through the bandaging, easing the throbbing in his surgically repaired ankle.

House stepped back, casting a careful eye over Wilson's relaxed frame. He waited until the taught lines of pain in his friend's face eased before he gently nudged the pained man with his cane.

Wilson's eyes fluttered open to look drearily at House questioningly. House placed two pills into his hand then handed him the glass of water. Taking the not so subtle hint, Wilson swallowed the pain medication and drained the glass. He handed the glass back to House who was waiting patiently to receive it.

As the medication in combination with the relieving cold of the ice pack began to numb the pain, Wilson's eyes slid closed and this time House didn't bother him when they stayed closed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I apologize for taking SO long to update! I hope that those of your whom are still reading enjoy this chapter. I'll probably try to squeeze in some fluff (and probably slash) into the next chapter. Thanks so much for sticking with this story! Please review and let me know what you think!<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

House waited until Wilson fell asleep before he left the apartment, locking the door behind him. He had a plan and he needed Wilson to be unconscious before he could put it into action.

* * *

><p>Wilson woke to find the apartment quiet and the fading sun barely lighting the bedroom. Shock registered briefly with his mind at how long he'd slept but it was quickly replaced by deep, bone-throbbing heat setting his foot and calf alight with pain.<p>

He groaned as the pain finally registered in his sleep addled mind then turned to grab the prescription bottle he knew would be sitting on his bedside table.

The _step-thwump_ of House's walk could be heard echoing through the hall, surprising Wilson with how quiet the whole apartment had been. Apparently House had kept the TV off so he could listen for him.

"You okay?" House asked, limping over to Wilson's side of the bed, opening the pill bottle and dumping a couple out into the waiting palm. Thankfully he'd refilled the water glass before he'd left so Wilson didn't have to dry swallow the pills.

He waited somewhat impatiently while he waited for Wilson to answer. He'd heard the groan from the living room and was surprised to feel his heart begin racing at the sound. It amazed him that the one sound could cause him such anxiety but he supposed it was because it was Wilson who had made the sound. Had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have cared.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks." Wilson finally answered. He knew the waiting had been near torture for House but he'd wanted to make sure that he could answer truthfully and confidently rather than groaning.

"How bad?" House asked knowing full well that Wilson was far from okay.

"I'm fine," Wilson insisted. When House just gave him a glare he rolled his eyes and answered, "4."

"Liar," House answered before he left.

Wilson sank back into the bed not bothering to worry about what House was doing. Less than five minutes later House returned carrying a fresh ice pack and wearing an intriguing look on his face.

Without comment, House placed the ice pack over Wilson's ankle then sat down in the bed next to him. He waited until he could tell that Wilson was relaxed then bent down for a deep kiss.

"You know," He began when he pulled away giving them much needed air, "sex is good for pain relief. I'm living proof."

"Then the high from the endorphins wears off and you're left in agony." Wilson countered though the twinkle in his eye let House know he was open to the idea.

"True but I'm in agony to begin with. You on the other hand are not." House replied, sliding a hand over Wilson's right thigh, massaging methodically.

Wilson let out a groan akin to a purr. God that felt so good. "But how-"

"We'll figure it out. Just let me lead." House replied answering Wilson's unasked question. He understood what his friend was getting at. Usually Wilson's the one who is moving around to help ease the pressure on House's ruined thigh but with his injured ankle, he wouldn't be able to do anything.

"Don't I always?" Wilson quipped.

House let out a growl, "No, not always," he answered before pouncing. Using his strong arms to support him, House lowered his body on top of Wilson's while making sure not to disturb Wilson's resting ankle.

While he gently nibbled on Wilson's neck, House's right hand slinked out, pulled open the bedside table drawer and pulled out a tube of lube and a pair of scissors. Leaving the lube where it lay on the table, House used the scissors to cut open the scrubs that still covered Wilson's body.

He applied the scissors to the cheap, thin fabric using them to slice open the shirt and reveal porcelain skin with semi-defined abs. He continued to cut the shirt off Wilson's arms, allowing those deliciously well-defined arms to be free.

Unable to resist any longer, House bent down and used his mouth to try to nibble, kiss and suckle every inch of Wilson he could find. While his mouth was busy, House let his hands slide down and strip Wilson's bottom half, freeing his erection.

Slowly, he worked his way lower and lower, making sure to make the pleasurable torture last as long as he could. Wilson groaned and shuddered beneath his touch and House knew he was doing his job right.

Wilson, needing something to do with his hands, began to undress House as fast as he could while not disturbing what he was doing. He didn't think he ever wanted House to stop.

House rubbed his stomach against Wilson's hardened dick, earning another groan from the prone man. Awkwardly, he moved himself even lower, allowing him to take Wilson into his mouth and suck gently.

Wilson bucked his hips, trying to fuck House's throat. God he wanted to be in the man right now. Damn his stupid ankle!

"Slow down. I don't want you finishing too soon." House instructed, using one of his hands to rub Wilson's hip in soothing motions.

He moved back up so his and Wilson's face were even. Slowly, rhythmically, House began rubbing both their erections together, creating wonderfully erotic friction.

Wilson pulled House down for a bruising, passionate kiss. His skilled hands put just enough pressure on House's spine to loosen the tight muscles. He moved further down, massaging House's hips then butt.

House could tell where his lover wanted to go and understood the frustration building within him at being unable to go there. Gently, he pulled away from Wilson, offered a smirk then went down again, this time nibbling lightly on the shaft and suckling the tip.

Wilson emitted something between a growl and a groan. He started to thrust slowly against House's ministrations, making sure to keep his efforts slow and controlled.

Cerulean blue eyes burned crystal with heated affection. God Wilson was so hot when he lay sprawled on his back, naked and flush with eroticism! House released Wilson, earning a moan of protest from the oncologist, and worked his way up Wilson's stomach, kissing the soft flesh and sucking the nipples. "You are so damn sexy like this. I think we should keep you like this and never let you leave," House told him, a hint of animal instinct in his voice.

"As long as you finish what you start, you can do anything to me," Wilson moaned, thrusting his hips against House's.

"Hint taken," House answered, leaning back down.

Wilson finished with a fantastical explosion and a groan so loud House was sure the neighbors heard him.

House collapsed onto the bed in pain filled exhaustion mixed with euphoria. His thigh screamed murder at him while his heart beat rapidly with finished anticipation. He loved watching Wilson finish and today was no different.

"You okay?" Wilson asked, concerned about House's leg. He knew that while they both had thoroughly enjoyed the recent activities, it was hard on House's leg.

"Nothing a couple Ibuprofen and a heating pad can't fix." House muttered, his hand frantically trying to massage the thigh.

"Come here," Wilson instructed, an idea popping into his head.

"I'm not really up for cuddling." House grumbled.

"It's not for cuddling, though we will be doing that as well. If you cuddle with me, I can massage your thigh." Wilson explained almost impatiently.

House did as he was instructed, a grimace coming across his face as he moved his painful leg. Gently, he laid it across Wilson's body, allowing the oncologist access to the ruined thigh.

Wilson closed his eyes and allowed his hands to do what they knew by heart. Years of doing this for House allowed him to easily massage away the painful muscle spasms that wracked the damaged thigh, adjusting his pressure and speed according to House's posture.

Within twenty minutes, Wilson felt House's thigh, and therefore House as well, relax – collapsing into exhausted oblivion. He knew that the older man still needed the pain meds and heating pad but he wasn't likely to move any time soon.

With a grunt, Wilson sat up and got dressed, making sure to keep his right leg elevated on the bed until he was ready to stand. Gingerly, he lowered his throbbing ankle onto the floor and used his arms to push himself up off the bed.

"Where are you going?" House asked gruffly.

"To get you some meds and a heating pad." Wilson answered as he reached for the crutches which lay within easy reach.

"You need to stay off your feet," House responded, "most of my plans for the next week involve you on your back, naked."

Wilson pivoted, careful not to bump his ankle, and stared at House. "Seriously, naked?"

"Of course," House answered with a baffled expression.

Wilson rolled his eyes and made his way out of the bedroom to where the heating pad and ibuprofen were stored. He grabbed a bottle of water for himself, placing it in the pocket of his sweats along with the small bottle of ibuprofen. The heating pad he lay across one of the handles of his crutches and slowly made his way back to the room.

He placed the bottle of meds on House's table and tossed the heating pad on top of House's chest. He knew that the plug was close enough for House to reach without effort and he was worried that if he tried to do it, he'd hurt himself.

After making sure that House took the right amount of meds and wrapped the plugged in heating pad around his leg, Wilson crutched back over to his side of the bed, placing the bottle of water on the table before he settled himself comfortably on the bed. He replaced his ankle on the pillow, hoping the intense throbbing would ease with time and Tylenol.

* * *

><p>The next two weeks passed along the same lines as the first day. Cuddy and House both managed to talk Wilson into staying home longer though each in different ways. Cuddy tried being rational while House cheated. Every time he asked, he asked while he was sucking Wilson off. House knew that Wilson would give him anything then so he used it to his advantage.<p>

They had sex almost daily and as the days went one, Wilson was able to participate more though it usually resulted in pain for the both of them afterwards.

His ankle was healing well according to the doctors, which mainly included House. The pain had reduced to where he only needed the Tylenol 3 twice a day as long as he stayed off his feet and elevated his ankle.

Today was his first day back at work and Wilson had found it exhausting. All day long he had patient visits in between his patient rounds. His assistant tried helping him out and seeing his patients for him but most of them wanted to talk to their doctor and not their doctor's assistant which left him crutching around half the hospital.

By the time 6 o'clock came, Wilson was exhausted and in pain. He wanted nothing more than to collapse on his office couch and sleep until morning. However, he knew that House had had a busy day as well.

House's patient had been stubborn and her husband had been extra aggressive towards her doctor. He'd attacked House for administering a dose of unauthorized medicine which turned out to save her life.

Wilson had been called to alert him about the accident and when it was suggested that he come and help, House had very loudly yelled that Wilson had better stay right where he was. While he wanted nothing more than to be there for House right then, his body had screamed at him to stay in his office and rest.

However it was now quitting time and he needed to get House home, in bed and immobile. He needed to get dinner going, House fed, dishes put away and cleaned and all while on crutches.

The cooking would be easy enough since the kitchen was small and very easy to get around but the driving would be hard and painful but he seriously doubted that House would be able to drive right now.

Ignoring the screaming protest from his body, Wilson got up and crutched his way over to House's office.

House's team sat in the conference room, finishing the final paperwork and keeping a watchful yet unnoticed eye on their boss' office door.

Deciding to forgo the looks of pity and empathy from the team, Wilson made his way straight over to House's office. He entered the darkened office cautiously. While he didn't think House would have any stray objects lying around he didn't want to take any chances. The last thing either one of them needed was Wilson injuring himself further.

He let his eyes adjust to the dark then made his way to the vacant chairs across from House's desk. The man himself lay in the yellow chair in the corner with his feet on the ottoman and a heating pad wrapped around his thigh.

"Like what you see?" House's gravelly voice asked in the darkness.

"Well, you are rather sexy just laying there but no, I don't. How are you feeling?" Wilson responded, easing his leg onto a chair.

"I'm ready to go for a jog, how about you?" House replied, sarcasm dripping off his tone like a wet rag.

"I'll race you. First one to finish wins the agony." Wilson responded almost lightly.

House let out a mirthless laugh, "You ready to go home?"

"Are you?" Wilson countered knowing that House knew full well that he was ready.

House grunted his answer. The fiery excruciating agony the speared his thigh had been calmed thanks to stronger drugs (per Cuddy's instructions), relaxation and heat. He felt exhausted and his head had begun to pound but at least he knew he'd be able to get around like normal.

He eased himself out of the chair and took a tentative step towards his desk where his backpack lay innocently. When searing agony didn't accompany every step, he felt confident that he wouldn't need any extra help from anything other than his cane to get home.

Wilson watched House's movements like a hawk. He could tell from the way the diagnostician moved that he was exhausted and still hurting but it didn't seem to be any worse than a normal busy day for him.

Cuddy must have given him some stronger meds than ibuprofen for which Wilson was grateful. It killed him to see his friend and lover in constant agony and when the pain level was raised, his own thigh hurt in sympathy.

Carefully, Wilson lowered his painfully throbbing ankle to the floor then used his strong left leg to lift himself off the chair. He positioned his crutches to where he could use them then waited for House to lead the way out to the car.

Unsurprisingly, House had been watching him just as much as he had been watching House. The cerulean blue eyes were dull with pain but the gaze was sharp like an eagle's. Wilson knew that House knew just how much he was hurting and it made him want to groan.

The last thing Wilson wanted was for House to become focused on Wilson's pains and discomfort instead of his own. He wanted tonight to be about soothing House's pain and allowing him to relax – something he hadn't been able to do since Wilson's surgery.

"Ready?" Wilson asked hoping he sounded more cheery than he felt.

House nodded and began leading the way. Wilson followed as quickly as he could. He knew that House was in a hurry to get home and off his feet and he didn't want to be the one lagging.

They got into the elevator and waited until it lowered them to the main floor. "Should I be thinking of alternate ways to relieve pain?" Wilson prompted slyly.

House offered a challenging eyebrow, "Let's see what you got."


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Warning slash-sex in the first part of the chapter. **

**Chapter 11:**

House limped heavily into the apartment more than well aware that Wilson was seriously lagging behind. He knew that Wilson was hurting just as much as he was but his main thought was to get off his leg for twenty minutes.

He'd been sitting on the couch for a full ten minutes before Wilson finally crutched his way into apartment, shutting the door firmly behind him. He balanced precariously on his one good leg while he shed his coat and placed his brief case down next to the coat rack. He gasped in pain when he placed his injured leg lightly on the floor to keep from falling over.

Taking a deep breath, Wilson grabbed his crutches and headed into the kitchen to grab both his and House's meds and a bottle of water, that he slipped snuggly into pants pocket, then made his way over to the couch and collapsed onto it.

He tossed House's pills to him while he awkwardly pulled out the water bottle and swallowed his own.

Both men sat on the couch watching some random Discovery Channel special while they waited for their pain to abate.

"What do you want for dinner?" Wilson asked tiredly. He really didn't want to get off the couch but they both needed to eat.

"You," House answered seriously with a hunger in his eyes.

Wilson offered a small smile, "If I'm to keep up with you, I'll need to eat something."

Without asking for his opinion, House pulled out his cell phone, dialed the local Thai place, ordered, gave Wilson's credit card's number then hung up. "They'll be here in ten minutes."

Wilson nodded, showing that he'd heard. "How's your leg?"

"It's fine," House chirped cheerily. To prove his point he stood up and limped, sans cane, into the kitchen, pulled out a couple of beers then limped back over to the couch where he sat back down and handed Wilson one of the beers.

Wilson knew that though this show of health would convince everyone else but he was not fooled. The pain had calmed and the meds had helped but he was still in extreme pain. He gratefully took the beer from House's offering hand and took a very large swig from it.

"How's the ankle?" House asked pointing towards Wilson's bandaged leg with his beer bottle.

"It's fine," Wilson dismissed as he took another swig of his beer.

The evening passed quietly and soon it was time for bed, a place that House was eager to get Wilson into. He ushered the younger man into the bedroom and onto the bed where he gingerly stretched out.

Slowly, House lowered himself onto Wilson and began stripping the oncologist, taking extra care around his hurting ankle.

Once Wilson was right where House wanted him, he quickly stripped off his own clothing and pounced, attacking Wilson's flesh with his mouth. He nibbled where he knew Wilson liked to be nibbled and gently kissed other places.

When he came to Wilson's erect groin, House gently took Wilson into his mouth and began to suckle.

A breathless groan then gasp escaped from Wilson's mouth while his penis swelled even more. His hands reached out and caressed the closest thing he could reach which happened to be House's scalp.

House continued his suckling, bobbing up and down on Wilson's shaft, casually adding a nibble here and there where it suited him. His strong hand massaged Wilson's toned left thigh while his other one fondled Wilson's balls.

Wilson bucked against House's ministrations indicating what he wanted and House couldn't help but let a small smile escape his lips. He release Wilson and moved up so they were eye to eye. He thrust his own erection against Wilson's, allowing wonderful friction to do its job.

With strength that House had become accustomed to, Wilson rolled him over to the empty side of the bed onto his back. The brunette man returned House's actions to himself and eventually ended up awkwardly down by House's legs, enveloping House with his mouth.

House moaned with pleasure and bucked his hips, gently fucking Wilson's throat. Wilson softly massaged House's right thigh (which had to be hurting him) with his left hand while he entered House's hole with his right.

House gasped in surprise but soon relaxed then tensed again with pleasure. Eventually House couldn't take any more and he rolled onto his hands and knees and waited.

He didn't have to wait long. Wilson entered House with a gentle but insistent vigor, bring pure pleasure with every thrust. He finished quickly and flopped onto his back. He felt House wrap himself around Wilson, laying his dick right in Wilson's lap.

Wilson took the hint and began stroking House until he exploded with sweet relief all over Wilson's stomach.

Both men lie on the bed in silence, each trying to catch their breath and calm the pain which had begun to seize their bodies. At the same time both men reached for their pain meds which lay conveniently within reach of the bed.

They fell asleep with Wilson curled around House, his right leg resting on top of House's left

* * *

><p>.<p>

The summer passed slowly for the men. Wilson's ankle continued to heal but the sweltering heat coupled with the intense humidity made going outside damn near unbearable.

By the time September rolled around Wilson was actually out of the cast which had encased his lower leg and now walked around in "the boot". Much like last time, he would shed the dreaded thing before the end of the day but he would start out with it every single day.

October passed in a blur filled with multiple colored leafs and dying patients. It was mostly Wilson who had lost the patients but there was a week or two where the patient had been so far gone by the time House got to them there was nothing they could do.

Wilson sat on the couch in his office, sprawled across it with his paperwork in his lap and his head resting against the pillowed armchair. It had been a long day and he'd felt a migraine coming on so he decided to retreat to a more comfortable place to finish his paperwork.

House entered the office through the balcony door, allowing the freezing November air to sweep through and kiss his skin through the thin clothing. He took in the dim lighting and the position his friend was in and went alert. "What's wrong?" He asked forgoing the normal banter.

"Nothing just a bit of a migraine, I wanted to head it off before it got too bad." Wilson answered while he placed his pen down and rubbed his throbbing temples.

"Are you sure you want to go tonight?" House asked softly, settling himself down in one of the empty office chairs.

Wilson cocked an eybrow, "Are you?"

Tonight was the date for House and Wilson to join Blythe and John House for Thanksgiving Dinner. The older House's were in town for a few short hours before they continued on to the destination of Greece – a place they often traveled to during the winter.

"No, no no, don't change the subject young man," House lectured, "we're talking about you right now."

"What if I want to talk about you instead?" Wilson asked without missing a beat. He was still lying on the couch with his head back, eyes closed and massaging his temples. The ever present migraine would just NOT let up.

He felt sure hands bat his hands away and resume the massaging. "Because you're the one who is hurting." House said softly, gently. When Wilson opened his mouth to argue, House continued, "Yes, I know I'm hurting too but I'm always hurting. There's nothing either one of us can do about it. You on the other hand don't have to be in pain and I don't want to do something, like say going to dinner with my parents, if it's going to hurt you more."

Wilson felt himself relax under House's touch and concerned words. Ever since his surgery, House has been more attentive and open with his feelings – something Wilson wasn't about to complain about.

"I'll be fine," he assured, gingerly raising himself up, "but can we stop at my apartment before we go? I have some clothes I want to pick up."

House blushed and lowered his glance. "I was going to wait until after dinner to do this but I guess now's a better time than never." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a black velvet box. "You don't have an apartment any more. You haven't since about June. After you had your surgery and I brought you home, I waited until you were asleep then went to your apartment, packed your stuff and had it moved into storage."

Wilson shot up in alarm but House held out a hand indicating that he needed to wait.

"I cancelled your lease. Yesterday I found a new place for us to move into and signed the lease. Your stuff from your apartment is currently unpacked in the new place and waiting for the rest to join it."

House fiddled with the box for a moment before he continued.

"Wilson," House began, taking Wilson's hands in his own, "you are the most important thing in my life. I wouldn't be without you. God only knows why you've stuck around but that is one thing that I don't mind thanking him for."

He held out the box for Wilson to take then waited patiently for the oncologist to open it. A silver band greeted him.

"Will you marry me?" House asked.

Wilson looked up at House with tears in his eyes. He pulled out the band and turned it over. Though it made his head hurt worse, he read the engraving on the inside.

_I Love You James Wilson – Always_

"Yes!" Wilson answered before he threw his arms around his lover and held on tightly.

_~fin~_

* * *

><p><strong>Update: I have decided to end this particular story right where it is. I plan on beginning another story continuing from this one, more than likely where the next chapter would have began, but not until after I get a couple other stories finished so I'm not trying to do too much at once. <strong>

**I apologize for not telling you, my readers, sooner but I have just decided it today. Please forgive the long wait.**

**Megan  
><strong>


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